The World's Finest: The Dawn of Justice
by Daniel Sullivan
Summary: The chance meeting of the Kents and the Waynes on a back road in Kansas is the starting point of the greatest team-up in history, as a young Bruce Wayne and a young Clark Kent meet for the first time. Neither knows exactly why, but they're certain that the future holds something of great importance for these exceptional boys.
1. Chapter 1

**For the reader:**

After watching BvS, I had a LOT of criticism of the film, mainly with the writing. Not being one to give criticism without offering a solution, I have put my money where my mouth is, and have written a Superman and Batman story of my own.

The characters in this story are not just characters: they're comic icons and beloved heroes. But because they've been portrayed by many different actors, and in different ways in television and comics, everyone has different images of these characters. As a service to you, I will tell you what versions I've chosen for these characters.

I've drawn inspiration for these characters from the comics, animated shows, and of course, feature films. For the purpose of imagining these characters, I will go into what inspired each of them.

George Reaves is, and always will be, the definitive Superman/Clark Kent for me. For Superman in this story, picture him having gone through the Gym Jones training regimen that Henry Cavil went through.

For Batman, I chose Affleck's version of the character, but think Ben Affleck circa 2003 (Daredevil).

For Lois Lane, Teri Hatcher will always be Lois for me. Lois, the Planet's newsroom, Ma and Pa Kent, and ADA Mayson Drake are lifted directly from "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman."

Lex Luthor for this story was inspired more by John Byrne's take on the character in the 1986 Man of Steel miniseries and later Byrne era comics. For this, think Vince D'onofrio as he appears in the Daredevil TV show.

For Mercy Graves, think Gwendoline Christie.

Maggie Sawyer and the S.C.U. are likewise lifted from the Byrne era comics. If you need an actress in her part, think Tilda Swinton in her forties with short, auburn hair, chain smoking.

For Joker, think "Batman: The Animated Series," and just put Mark Hamill circa 1984 (Return of the Jedi) in the makeup.

Diana/Wonder Woman is the current DCEU version, with Gal Gadot.

Much as I love Melissa Benoist in the role, my Kara Zor El/Supergirl will always be Helen Slater circa 2004 (Supergirl).

This story forgoes the MoS film, as I wanted to portray Clark's and Bruce's relationship from a different angle. I've reread this one several times, and I've tried my best to give it the love it deserves (correcting typos, plot inconsistencies, and awkward sentences that I did not catch before). Read on and enjoy!

Thank you.

* * *

 **Kansas, August 1976**

It was a hot August day, and the Kents were on their way home from a visit with Jonathan's aunt Mae the next county over. Their old truck had no air conditioning, and with the three of them squeezed into the cab, it was sweltering. Little Clark had wanted to ride in the bed with the hay, saying, "It'll be a hay ride, Dad!" Ever sensible, Jonathan and Martha had said no, leaving their ten year old son to pout with his arms folded.

"C'mon Clark," Martha said. "It's not so bad."

"I just wish we had air conditioning, Mom."

"This is a farm truck, son," Jonathan said. "Don't have no air condishnin. We're workin' folks son, not soft city folk."

Before she could say anything to soften her husband's gruff comment, she saw something in the road. "Jonathan, what's that?"

Up ahead on the side of the road was a stalled car … but it was no ordinary car. It was not a Cadillac or a Lincoln, but Jonathan knew that it was a luxury car. It was a dark green convertible, its tan top lowered, steam rolling out from underneath the car, and from the seams in its hood. A tall, well-dressed man in a waistcoat and fedora hat waved to them to get their attention. A distinguished older man with thinning hair, a blonde woman, and a child who looked to be about Clark's age were still sitting in the car.

As the Kents brought their truck to a stop behind the big car, the man walked up to the driver's side to explain the situation. He was a tall, slender man, good looking, sporting a stylish mustache. Jonathan wagered that the man's tailored waistcoat cost more than the truck the Kents were driving. Classical music filled the air, a fitting accompaniment to the stylishly wealthy man. Now that they were up close, Jonathan spied the badge on the trunk of the car that read, Rolls Royce. _The car costs more than our house!_

"Oh, thank heaven you've come along!"

The man's voice was cultured, its upper crust northeastern accent a stark contrast to the Midwestern accent Jonathan was used to. Martha stared appreciatively at the man, and Jonathan could hardly blame her; he was dashing and handsome, and obviously a man of great wealth.

"Thomas Wayne," the man said, by way of introduction. "I have business holdings in Smallville of all places, believe it or not. Thought it would be nice to drive the family down and stretch the legs of my new Corniche. Not used to this heat, and I fear she wasn't up to the task. Overheated!"

Jonathan got out and shook the man's hand. "Jonathan Kent." He then motioned to his wife and son. "This is my wife, Martha, and our son, Clark."

Thomas Wayne's eyes lit up. "Martha? Splendid! That's my wife's name too! And might I say, she's just as lovely."

"Thank you." Jonathan liked the man instantly, but the name suddenly rang a bell. "You said you're Thomas Wayne … _the_ Thomas Wayne … from Gotham?"

"The same," Wayne replied. "Good to meet you, Jonathan Kent."

"Let's see what's going on under the hood," Jonathan offered.

As her husband went with Thomas Wayne to inspect the engine of a car that cost more than thirty thousand dollars, Martha and Clark got out and went to the passengers. Martha Wayne wore clothes that Martha Kent could only dream about. Thomas saying that Mrs. Kent was as lovely as Mrs. Wayne was a stretch; Martha Kent looked at the statuesque woman with a degree of awe. Mrs. Wayne looked like she had stepped right out off of the big screen, reminding her a bit of Katharine Hepburn.

The older man stepped out of the car and slid the seat of the big coupe forward so that Martha Wayne could exit the vehicle. He offered her a hand, which she daintily took, and then stepped out onto the grass. At her full height in her high heels, Martha Wayne was as tall as Jonathan. She wore a Parisian peasant style dress that showed her long legs below the knees. A pearl necklace and a diamond ring bigger than anything Mrs. Kent had ever seen were ostentatious reminders of the incredible wealth the Waynes enjoyed. Martha Kent wore dungarees and button down shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots Jonathan had surprised her with for her birthday.

"Madame," the older man said. "Allow me to introduce Martha Wayne." The man had a British accent, reminiscent of David Niven. The boy got out of the car, likewise well dressed like his father. "And this spritely young fellow is Master Bruce."

"Oh, Alfred," Martha Wayne implored. "No need for such formality." She then turned to Martha and Clark. "It was very kind of you to stop. Three cars have passed us by already, and the one callbox Thomas found was out of order."

"You're a long way from town, Mrs. Wayne," Martha Kent replied. "And of all days! Land sakes, it must be a hundred!"

"Only one thing to be done," Mrs. Wayne replied with a smile. "Alfred, would you pour us some refreshment please?"

"But of course, Madame." The butler opened the lid to the car's center console, the air around it misting as the cold air met the hot Kansas air. From the cold compartment he removed two cans of Pepsi, handing one each to Clark and Bruce, and then a bottle of champagne and two glasses. As Alfred served the ladies champagne, Martha Kent marveled as Mrs. Wayne effortlessly turned car trouble into a social event.

"Champagne makes everything better," Mrs. Wayne declared as Alfred handed Mrs. Kent her glass.

Martha Kent imbibed the bubbly drink, and thought she had died and gone to heaven. "Mrs. Wayne, what is this?"

"Dom Perignon '53," Alfred declared.

Martha realized that the bottle of champagne would cost more than most folks in Smallville made in a week. She looked up at Martha Wayne in shock that the wealthy socialite would be sharing this expensive drink with a small town hick.

"Decadent, I know," Martha Wayne declared, her voice every bit as smooth and rich as the champagne. "Don't worry; there's plenty more at home." Then she stooped down to Clark's eye level, smiling like an aunt reuniting with a favorite nephew. "And who is this handsome young lad?"

"This is my son, Clark."

"He's a handsome one," Mrs. Wayne noted. "In a few more years, he'll have Kansas women swooning." Clark made a face at the remark. At only eight years of age, Clark's interest in girls was limited to how well they played baseball and rode bicycles. Mrs. Wayne smiled at the boy as he crinkled his nose. "One day, young Clark, you'll see things differently."

Martha Kent saw Bruce making the same faces Clark was making, burying his face behind a handheld game of some kind when he realized he had been seen.

Clark for his part watched in rapt fascination as his small town country mother rubbed elbows with the wealthy Mrs. Wayne. He was somewhat envious of Bruce, who held the brand new Mattel Auto-Race game in his hand, though he put the thought from his mind; Clark had yet to encounter an electronic game, or indeed, _any_ game that he could not master and beat within a minute. The boy seemed friendly enough, but was too engrossed to put the game down. Bruce was also less sturdy than the boys Clark played with, and the young farm boy chalked it up to soft city living. He wagered that Lana could probably take Bruce Wayne in any sports. Still, they were always stuck with odd teams; perhaps with the Waynes in town, they could finally play baseball with even team numbers. The still-playing classical music caught his attention, and Clark looked into the car and saw the source; a stereo eight track tape deck.

"That's so cool!"

"It's an eight track," Bruce declared. "Straus's Blue Danube."

"Got any Skynard?"

Bruce looked at his mother, then at Alfred, and then back at Clark. "What's Skynard?"

Before Clark could answer, his pa called out to him. "Clark, they've got a busted lower hose. Get the repair tape and a couple gallons of antifreeze from the truck. We should be able to get them back to town."

"Sure thing, Pa!"

Clark ran to the truck and did as he was asked, bringing the two jugs of Prestone antifreeze and the hose tape to his father, who was now crawling under the big Rolls to affect the repair. His father's hand came out from under the car to take the roll of tape, and then he began grunting and muttering about how little room there was to work with the car at this angle. Not even thinking about it, Clark walked to the passenger side corner, grasping the bumper, and lifted.

"This help, Pa?"

Thomas Wayne stood open mouthed, and Martha Wayne gasped. Bruce ran to the front of the car and looked with astonishment as Clark held the front of the car a good eight inches above its normal height, the wheel barely touching the ground. Pa Kent slid out from under the car saying, "That oughta do it." He saw Clark, and gave him a very stern look. _Oops_ , Clark thought, lowering the car gently to the ground.

"These luxury cars have very soft springs," Pa Kent declared. "Makes shifting them up like that a piece of cake." He picked up the antifreeze and said, "Thanks, son, but don't go touching other people's cars like that. It ain't good manners."

"But you needed …"

"No buts son," his pa said with a laugh. "That's what jacks are for."

"See, young Master Bruce," Alfred said. "Hard work makes you stronger."

As Clark ran off with his father to put their tools back in the truck, Bruce tried to lift the car like Clark had, but it would not budge. He looked at the Kansas farm boy with newfound respect. Bruce had never been athletic, and was often picked on at the private school his parents sent him to. He imagined that with a friend like Clark, the bullies would not stand a chance.

 **Smallville, three days later ...**

The Waynes made it to Smallville without any further trouble, and Thomas Wayne's purchase of a recently shuttered factory was accompanied by the news that jobs would be returning to the area. While the locals cheered, and the Waynes were well received, Bruce was bored. They would be in Smallville for a week, and while the hotel outside of town was nice enough, there was nothing to do. After three days, the hot new game, Auto Race, had lost some of its luster.

As Bruce sat around wondering what to do, his mother blew in, calling, "Bruce, come on. We're heading out."

She wore blue jeans and a red blouse, a look he had never seen her in. He got up and went with her, wondering what she had in mind, and why she was fetching him herself instead of getting Alfred to do it for her. He followed her down to the rented car that she had insisted upon having, as Thomas Wayne was off with the Rolls. Unlike the Rolls, the rental was a Ford Mustang II with a T-top; a tiny, sporty car by comparison. She opened the door for him, closing it after he got in, and then went to the driver's side and got in.

"Mom … you're driving?"

"Of course, Bruce," she said with a laugh. "It's nice to be pampered, but sometimes, it's fun to just do it myself."

"Where are we going?"

"My small-town sister invited us over. You can play with Clark."

Bruce was puzzled. "Mrs. Kent is your sister?"

"Of course not," she laughed as she shifted into first gear. "But she's a Martha too, and I just feel close to her."

It was strange to hear her say that. Martha Wayne and Martha Kent had nothing except their first names and their gender in common, but Bruce was glad for the change of pace. Clark was personable enough, and at least Bruce would not be board in the hotel room. His mother turned on the radio, trying to find a classical music station, but to no avail, so she settled on a rock and roll station. On one song, the singer said, "Turn it up," which his mother did with a laugh, and the car was filled with the sound of electric guitar, and a southern man singing about his sweet home in Alabama.

"Who's this?"

"This, Bruce, is that "Skynard" band Clark was talking about." She chuckled as she turned up the radio. "I wasn't always Mrs. Wayne, you know. When I was young, I was quite an independent girl. Drove my parents crazy, but it's what caught your father's eye. I like the classical and swing music well enough, but sometimes, a girl just needs to rock."

Bruce watched his mother transform from a wealthy socialite into a carefree, independent woman. Years seemed to come off of his mother, even though she did not look old in the least. It amazed him what a wardrobe change and the lack of make-up could do. Suddenly, his mother looked as though she belonged in Smallville. As the car drove from the hotel to the Kent's farm, Bruce felt as if a weight was lifted from him. Gotham, the private school - it was all so … oppressive. Out here in Kansas, in Smallville though, the oppressiveness of Gotham was a world away. He listened with his mom to the southern rock as the car sped along, waving his hands out the open T-top roof.

 **And in a short while ...**

Smallville was indeed small, and it did not take long for Mrs. Wayne to drive to the Kent's farm. The long dirt driveway to the house looked straight out of an old movie or television show. As they neared the house, Bruce saw Mrs. Kent on the front porch waving, a sturdy, red headed girl roughly his own age standing with her. The car came to a stop, Martha Wayne waving out the open roof of the car.

"Martha," Mrs. Wayne called out as she alighted from the Mustang. "I feel like I've stepped back in time coming out here! I love it!"

"Time moves just a bit slower here in Smallville," Martha Kent replied with a laugh. "And hello, Bruce. Land sakes, it's nearly one! You both must be starved!"

"Who's she?" Bruce asked as he took his seatbelt off, and before his mother could respond.

"Lana Lang," the girl said. "Clark told me about you. Said you might play baseball with us."

Bruce nodded, and bowed at the waist. "Bruce Wayne," he said by way of introduction.

"Good," she said quickly. "Let's eat, and then we can play!"

Bruce looked around. "Where's Clark?"

"Clark's out with Pa, workin' the back forty," Mrs. Kent announced as if it were obvious. "Now come on in both of you. Sandwiches, sweet-tea, and coffee are waiting."

Bruce's mom smiled at that, then held up a bottle of wine. "A little something from Les Baux-de-Provence, just for us ladies."

"Me too?" Lana looked hopeful, but Mrs. Wayne shook her head. "Sorry, my dear, but this is a treat for when you've matured."

"Mother, we have it at home all the time," Bruce objected, trying to stick up for Lana.

"You don't want wine before playing baseball," Mrs. Kent warned. "Those boys they play against can be mean. For the life of me, I don't know why Clark, Lana, and Pete put up with them!"

"Cause we whip 'em every time," Lana explained with a laugh. "And that's with only three or us!"

Bruce raised an eyebrow at this. "How many of them are there?"

"Four," Lana said. "But it don't matter no how; we got Clark, and he _never_ loses—ever!"

Bruce recalled Clark effortlessly lifting the Corniche, and imagined she was right. Clark Kent was the same age as Bruce; ten, but he looked more like he was twelve—a very _big_ twelve. His thoughts were interrupted when the bell of a bicycle rang. Lana called out, "Pete," and then ran from the porch to greet a black boy riding a blue Schwinn Stingray, all decked out with ape hangers, a banana seat, and a tall sissy bar. Baseball cards clipped to the forks made a ticking sound as the spokes contacted them.

"Lana," Pete said. "Ma Kent."

"Pete, come on in!" Mrs. Kent beckoned the boy, who ran from his bike to hug the waiting Ma Kent.

Bruce was not sure what to make of this. In Gotham, the white kids from good neighborhoods did not generally mix with the black children, but Mrs. Kent greeted Pete Ross like he was a second son. To the Kents and Lana, Pete was just another kid. Bruce smiled. _This is how it should be_ , he thought.

"Thanks, Ma Kent," Pete said. Then he looked over at Bruce. "This the new kid Clark was talkin' about?"

"Pete, this is Bruce Wayne," Mrs. Kent said, "and he's come all the way from Gotham City to play baseball with you, Clark, and Lana."

"Solid," Pete said with a smile, giving Bruce a thumbs up. "Good to meet you, Bruce. I'm Pete Ross."

Mrs. Kent herded the kids into the kitchen where sandwiches, fresh baked cookies, and sweet tea awaited them, and then retired to the living room with Bruce's mom. As the two women indulged in the Provence rosé wine, the three fifth graders devoured their lunch and snacks. It soon became apparent that Bruce was not a baseball player.

"You mean you don't play at all?" Lana was aghast at the very idea.

"I try, but I never get picked," Bruce explained. "My dad plays with me, but I'm not very good. I'm afraid I shan't be an asset to you this afternoon."

Pete and Lana looked at each other, astonishment turning to smiles, and finally, they broke into giggling.

"Shan't?" Lana laughed as she said it. "You sound like my Aunt Gertrude!"

Bruce became quiet, not sure if she was in earnest or was making fun of him.

"Don't worry, Bruce," Pete said. "We've got Clark. All you need to do is hit the ball and get on base. Lana'll crack one out into the backfield and get on base, then I'll get the bases loaded. Clark'll knock it outta the park, and we all go home!"

Bruce shook his head. "What if they catch it?"

"Don't worry," Lana assured. "They won't."

 **After a huge lunch ...**

Clark finally joined them and loaned Bruce a spare bicycle. It was not as nice as Bruce's Italian road bike, but it was something to ride at least. The four of them had ridden to the field, where four large boys awaited them: The Dalton brothers; Jed and Eli, and Luke Vernon and Wyatt Parker. They were all big, athletic boys, and Bruce was convinced that Luke had been held back a year. Only Clark equaled them in size.

"You picked that scrawny kid for your team?" Jed Dalton dismissed Bruce immediately.

Clark shrugged. "Why not?"

"He's so dainty," Wyatt teased. "You sure he aint a girl with short hair and boys' clothes?"

It did not seem to matter. No matter where he went, bullies seemed to come out of the woodwork—only this time was different.

"More of a man than any of you," Lana said.

"Yeah," chimed in Pete. "Bet he can make it 'round the bases before any o' you can lay a finger on him!"

 _Oh, I wish he hadn't said that_ , Bruce thought.

"If you think he'll be too much for you," Clark added, "then maybe you should just forfeit the game."

"No fuckin' way, Kent," Jed Dalton cursed. "We'll kick your asses!"

"Said that last time," Lana quipped.

The four boys fumed, but had no rebuttal. It seemed that Lana had found the right comeback. They flipped a coin to see who was at bat first, and the bullies won. They lined up at bat, Jed Dalton going first. Pete put on his mask and his mitt, assuming the catcher's position, as Clark took the pitcher's mound, and Lana and Bruce took up positions further back.

Kent threw the first pitch, a blinding fastball, which Jed swung wildly at. Clark's arm was like a canon, and the big farm-boy fired off two more fastballs, striking out Jed in short order. Wyatt was next, but he could not hit a thing Clark threw. Bruce had watched professional baseball, and Clark's pitches looked like they were on par with those of a major league pitcher. The boy stood commandingly, as if he were number one in the league and knew it. Three more fast balls took out Eli Dalton, and it was their turn at bat.

Bruce was first up at bat, at Lana's insistence. "Bunt," was all she said as she gave him the bat. He stood nervously as the catcher, Eli Dalton, mercilessly insulted him. Wyatt pitched a curve ball, but Bruce knew not to even try; it was several inches off from the plate.

"Ball one," Pete called.

The next pitch was a faster ball. Bruce did not swing, but it was right over the plate.

"Strike one," Pete called out.

"What's the matter?" Eli teased. "City boy don't got the balls to swing?"

That made him angry. Forgetting Lana's admonition to bunt, when Wyatt's next fastball came Bruce swung as hard as he could. After seeing Clark's pitches, Wyatt's fastball did not look all that fast. The bat connected with a solid crack, sending the ball into the outfield. As Luke ran to catch it, Bruce ran to first base, just as Pete had instructed, his three teammates cheering him on. Luke got the ball, but not until after it had hit the ground, and threw it to Wyatt, who threw it to Jed.

"Safe," Pete called as Jed prepared to run in and tag Bruce.

It was Lana's turn at bat. She winked at Bruce, and when Wyatt's fastball came in, she bunted, sending the ball toward third base, rolling along the ground. As Wyatt ran to get it, Bruce ran to second, and Lana took first base.

Pete was up now. He swung at two of Wyatt's fastballs, accruing two strikes, but on the third pitch, Ross caught a piece of it, getting a pop fly. He ran to first and Bruce and Lana ran for third and second. Wyatt got the ball after it bounced on the ground near him. The bases were loaded.

Bruce could hardly believe it; the game was going exactly as Pete and Lana said. Now, Clark was up. Wyatt threw hard, his fastest pitch yet, but Clark hit it like it was standing still. Bruce watched the ball fly high, straight, and out of the baseball field. It was a home run. As Bruce crossed home plate, followed by Lana, Pete, and Clark, he could hardly believe this was happening. Bruce Wayne, the scrawny little rich kid, was on the winning team! He had been picked to play by someone other than the losers. He realized that he was screaming and shouting as loudly as Lana and Pete. Bruce Wayne _never_ screamed and shouted.

They played four more innings before the Daltons, Luke, and Wyatt threw in the towel. Lana was good—real good, and so was Pete. Clark, on the other hand, was entirely out of their league, pitching and hitting at what looked to be professional levels. At the end, Kent walked over and shook the hands of the vanquished team, saying, "Good game. See y'all tomorrow."

"Later, Kent," Wyatt said good naturedly. "And Bruce, you're alright after all. See you tomorrow."

Bruce nodded and shook Wyatt's hand, wondering what had just happened. He had played his best game of baseball ever, and the small-town hicks had just befriended him. Lana, Pete, and Clark had cheered him on through the whole game. Suddenly, Bruce Wayne was out of his shell.

 **Four days, and a lot of bicycle riding and baseball games later ...**

With Thomas Wayne's business concluded, the Waynes were ready to return to Gotham. Bruce did not want to go; Baseball and bicycling every day, Mrs. Kent's apple pie, and his new friends, Clark, Lana, and Pete, all were more fun than the big mansion at home. But it did not matter; a week in Smallville had come to an end, as all good things must.

"Y'all come on back, you hear," Clark said as Bruce stood by the Corniche. "We'll always have a spot for you."

Lana and Pete were there too, Pete shaking Bruce's hand. "We're the Sluggers, Bruce," Pete said. "An' we stick together!"

"I'll insist," Bruce replied. "Winter break, or maybe before summer's over."

"Pleasure to meet you, Bruce Wayne," Lana said. "Never met anyone from the big city before, but you're one of us now."

As Lana and Pete said goodbye and rode off, Clark stood with Bruce. Where Lana and Pete were loud and exuberant, Clark was more reserved.

"I don't have no brothers," Clark said out of the blue. "Lana's like a sister, and Pete's like a brother, but you? I don't know, but it's like we're brothers, Bruce. Real brothers, I mean, not just close friends."

Bruce nodded. It was weird, but he had the same feeling. He looked at his mother and Martha Kent carrying on like sisters, and his father, Jonathan, and Alfred discussing matters automotive and felt as though the Kents were family, family he had never met, but had somehow known all his life.

"You feel it too," Bruce said finally.

"We'll meet again, Bruce," Clark declared. "This is only the beginning."

 **Kansas, September 1976**

The Waynes had left Smallville a month ago, but Martha Wayne had arranged to return with Bruce for a visit before the summer was out; a week in the country before school began. Clark was excited to finally reunite with his new friend. The phone rang, and he heard his mother's footsteps moving rapidly.

"I'll get it," she called. Martha Kent flew around the corner, and answered the phone with an out of breath, "Hello?" She then exclaimed, "Alfred!"

Clark assumed that it was about the trip, final arrangements and such, but then he heard his mother begin sobbing uncontrollably.

"No—no, no, no! Oh, God, no!"

He ran into the kitchen to find his mother collapsed on the floor sobbing, the phone in her hand, listening to Alfred. Finally, she said, "That boy needs us, Alfred. We'll be on a plane tomorrow."

She hung up the phone, and looked at Clark, her face ashen. "Thomas and Martha—they're dead."

"Dead? Mom—how?"

"Shot outside of a movie theater. Bruce, that poor child—he watched his parents die."

 **One week later in Gotham ...**

The funeral was held at Saint Mark's, an old, gothic church, which somehow made Bruce feel like he was in some kind of horror film. The boy was numb. With his parents gone, and their killer still on the loose, he almost felt as though death was stalking him, like it had missed him, and would return to correct the error. He saw the Kents enter the church, and got up from his seat, running to them. Ma Kent hugged him tightly.

"You poor thing," she cried. "And your parents—Martha …"

"I wasn't strong enough to stop him," Bruce sobbed. "I was too scared."

"He had a gun," Clark said. "There's nothing you could have done, Bruce. I'm sure you were plenty brave."

"You could have stopped him, Clark," Bruce said. "I don't know how, but if it was your father, you would have found a way! I'm not brave like that—but one day, I will be, I swear it!"

Clark nodded. "You already are, Bruce—you just don't know it yet."

The funeral ended, and the procession motored to the family crypt on the grounds of Wayne Manor, where Thomas and Martha Wayne's coffins were slid into their waiting slots. The priest pronounced the final benediction, and then it was over. His parents were gone, forever sealed away in the stone and marble necropolis. He could take it no longer.

Bruce ran from the crypt, not paying attention to where he was going. Clark called after him, but Bruce only ran faster, knowing that if Clark truly wanted to catch him, it would be no contest. Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath him, and he fell. He fell further than he had ever fallen, at least twenty to thirty feet, screaming all the way. Bats were flying all around him, screeching. It was terrifying. _I'm dead_ , he thought. _I'm dead!_ But he never hit the ground.

Bruce had stopped, mere inches from the floor of the cave, suspended in the air by his left arm. He looked up, only to see Clark looking down at him, floating in midair, as though he had taken a swan dive, caught Bruce, and then simply stopped. Bruce looked for the cable. Somehow, Clark _must_ have had a bungie cable. He must have attached it to a tree, and just jumped. But there was no cable. There was no question of Clark's abilities.

The bats circled them, and Bruce cried out, terrified of the creatures. Clark lowered Bruce to the ground, where he fell to his knees, trying to get as close to the ground as possible, hoping the bats would leave him alone. Clark gently landed next to him, the bats still circling.

He realized that the bats were not hurting him, and slowly stood, the bats seeming to not be harrying him, but circling with him, joining him. Bruce wondered if it was Clark or him that the bats were warming to, but as he put out his hands, he realized that they were not afraid of him.

"They like you," Clark said absently.

"Bats …" Bruce looked at Clark. "You fly—like them."

"Yeah," Clark said. "Don't say nothin' to nobody—my parents know, but nobody else does, not even Lana and Pete."

Bruce nodded. "Your secret's safe with me, Clark. You can count on that." He then looked around at the bats. "It's like we're the same, them and me. Creatures of the shadows. People fear them …"

"They're not so scary as people think," Clark said, not catching that Bruce had made some connection, some mental breakthrough.

"People—cowardly and superstitious people," Bruce said, his voice raspy. "Criminals—are a cowardly and superstitious lot. They would fear the bats …" He abruptly turned to Clark. "The man who shot my parents—he was a coward!"

"The worst," Clark agreed.

"Yes," Bruce said. "The worst. But one day—they'll learn to fear the night!"


	2. Chapter 2

**August 1994**

The limousine was waiting for him at National Airport, a stretched, black Rolls Royce. This was the end of the journey, a quest, that had begun four years ago; the day after he earned his bachelor of law from Princeton. Alfred had been immensely disappointed, as was everyone else in his life. Bruce had pursued a law degree, much to the disappointment of his late father's associates, who had encouraged him to go for an M.B.A. Alfred understood that, but not Bruce's decision to stop with a bachelor's degree, and then travel to Japan. Only one person in the world understood: Clark Kent.

Alfred stepped out of the back door of the limo, holding it for Bruce.

"Master Wayne," he said formally. "Good to have you back in the land of the living."

Bruce nodded. "Alfred." He stepped up into the limousine. One word conversations. Those were all that he had with Alfred the last year before he finished school. Then, he told Alfred his plans, precipitating a blow-out of epic proportions. Alfred had thrown everything from his father's legacy to what his mother would have wanted for him. Clark, however, understood. He had advised Bruce to follow his heart.

Bruce chuckled at the memory. _Follow your heart_ , Bruce thought. It was not his heart that Bruce was following, not exactly. Clark was always so optimistic, so encouraging and thoughtful. He reminded Bruce of a Disney character; Hercules crossed with the prince from Sleeping Beauty. But somehow, it worked. Clark always knew what to say, and on the rare occasion that he did not, Clark would then just let you know he was there for you, come what may.

The door closed, and then the opposite door opened, Alfred climbing in, closing it behind him. The old butler looked genuinely happy to see him, a warm smile upon his now craggy face. If Bruce was not mistaken, and he never was, Alfred's eyes were misted over. Alfred reached across and squeezed Bruce's upper arm.

"It's good to have you back, Master Wayne."

"It's good to see you again, Alfred," Bruce replied. "It will never be good to be back, though."

Alfred frowned. "Your words are truer than you know." He sighed, then continued. "Gotham's police department has become even more corrupt and ineffectual than it had been when you left, something I had not thought possible."

"The slow decline? Or is there an outside force at work?"

"Both," Alfred replied. "The slow decline, coupled with some new blood in the MPD across the bay; Commissioner Corrigan has been a force for progress in the Metropolis Police Department, and a new, Special Crimes Unit; S.C.U., has been assembled. Clean castoffs from Gotham have gone to Metropolis seeking redemption and a chance at a clean start, including one Detective Maggie Sawyer, who has been placed in charge of the new S.C.U. A new ADA, Mayson Drake, has been a rising star."

The new unit got Bruce's attention. "What exactly is the Special Crimes Unit?"

"A new unit assembled to deal with a rash of violent, high-tech crimes, committed by a group of armored assailants. Their suits are amazingly advanced, enabling them to fly, resist small arms weapons, and they have impressive artillery built into them, much like that Ironman character from the comics."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "And let me guess; the riff-raff is leaving Metropolis to take advantage of less competition and an ineffectual police force."

"Exactly," Alfred replied. "Also, there seems to be an influx of drugs and weapons, making our city even more desperate."

"Perhaps it's time I gave back to my city," Bruce declared.

 **That same day in Metropolis ...**

Clark Kent got off of the Greyhound bus, carrying naught but a duffle. Looking around at the gleaming city of concrete, steel, and glass, he knew he was not in Kansas. Of course, he had not been in Kansas for a long time. After graduating from Washburn University with a degree in journalism in 1988, Clark had met with the melancholy Bruce Wayne one last time before the two of them embarked on their separate personal journeys. Bruce was going to Japan to seek enlightenment. Clark, on the other hand, was looking to see the real world, the one you could not see from the screen of a television.

While Bruce learned the way of the Samurai, Clark joined the Peace Corps for a year, after which, he found himself drawn to war-torn lands, where he could use his unique powers to help the poor and disadvantaged without fear of losing his life. He sent quite a few stories off to an editor whom he admired; Perry White of the Daily Planet. Perry had spoken at Washburn during Clark's time there, and had greatly inspired him. Now, he hoped that those stories he sent had been planted seeds, seeds that would begin to grow upon Clark's arrival at the Planet. He had sent his resume, and had attached more recent stories, and Perry had agreed to interview him. Clark kept his fingers crossed as he made his way to the Planet building.

Clark found the Planet easily enough, though he found the hustle and bustle of the city to be amusing; these people were all in a hurry to do what amounted to busy-work. The Planet, on the other hand, represented something that mattered: truth. The building loomed high overhead, with the paper's signature "Planet" atop the roof. It was a magnificent sight, and Clark wondered why he had not visited the gleaming city sooner, just to see this building.

The Daily Planet stood on the corner of Fifth and Concord, ten stories of brick and mortar, and with still opening windows framed in brass. The Daily Planet. It was Metropolis' oldest newspaper, a piece of history, and the old building served as a reminder. Unlike the glass and steel skyscrapers around it, the old Planet building had personality, character, and heart. Inside, Perry White was waiting to interview him, and if he was lucky, Clark might even get to meet the Pulitzer winning Lois Lane.

"Hey there, you lost?"

Clark turned around, then looked down, spying a young, red headed boy, who looked to be about sixteen, though his Daily Planet badge told Clark that the boy must be at least eighteen. The boy smiled up at him, no taller than five-seven, and looking like he stepped out of a 1940's novel. he wore tan wool pants, a dark green wool waistcoat, a white cotton shirt, and a red bowtie. the chain of a pocket watch hung between his waistcoat's left pocket and middle button. On his head was a green woolen flat cap. Around the boy's neck was a camera, marking him as a photographer. His high tenor voice made him seem even younger.

"Not at all," Clark replied, his own, lower voice a stark contrast they younger man's. "This is my destination; just pausing to admire the building."

"Cool," the boy replied. "I'm Jimmy Olsen; I'm a photographer here at the Planet. You got an appointment, or are you just checking the place out?"

"Clark Kent." Clark shook his hand. "I have an interview with Mister White in …" Clark looked at his watch. "Oh, about ten minutes."

"Come on, C.K. I'm on my way up; I'll take you there."

* * *

 **In Perry White's office ...**

"Impressive work, Kent," Perry said as he looked over Clark's attached stories. "Hard hitting stuff, and from right in the trenches too. I like that."

Perry White was a graying, middle aged man of about six feet in height. He had a slight slouch to him, and wore a look that seemed a cross between serious interest and a perpetual scowl. Perry's office was adorned with so much Elvis memorabilia that Clark thought it an Elvis shrine. Clearly, the man was a fan.

"Thank you, Sir," Clark replied respectfully.

"I could use a man like you, Kent. Most of these kids come out of college and think that piece of paper guarantees them some kind of living." Perry waved his hand in disgust, making a 'pfew' sound. "Take that Olsen kid; started yesterday—thinks he's some kind of ace reporter because he worked on his school newspaper."

"Well, in fairness, even I didn't do that," Clark replied.

"No, Sir," Perry said, a smile cracking his craggy face. "All state quarterback; you threw a near hundred yard pass down field—made the news! You had ten guys trying to drag you down—ten! And still, you made that pass. Not many pros can do that, let alone high school kids. Pass was perfect, too. What made you choose journalism? You could have gone pro right out of high school if you wanted."

"Football is just a game," Clark explained. "I want to make a real difference in the world. There's so much that a reporter can accomplish that nobody else can. Our democracy depends upon the press keeping it honest. I mean, think about what Bob Woodward accomplished! That's not something I could ever do as a football player."

Perry stood smiling like the cat that got the canary. "Now that's what I wanted to hear." He then sat at his desk, and buzzed the intercom. "Lane, get in here."

The door opened a moment later, and a flustered woman blew into the room. Clark's eyes widened as he looked at her. Her large, almond shaped brown eyes caught his, and it was as if they had an instant connection. She was five-six, almost a full foot shorter than him. She had a high, narrow waist and her wine colored, skirted business suit showed her long, shapely legs. But it was her eyes that he kept coming back to. The intelligence he saw in those eyes, in just that moment … then she spoke.

"Perry, you know I have a thousand things on my plate, and … who's the hayseed?"

He laughed in spite of himself at her comment, and her high, soprano voice, though it bordered on shrill, just made her as cute as a button in his opinion. Clark extended his hand.

"Clark Kent."

She smiled, one of those wide, toothy grins. He thought he would melt. "Charmed," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Glad you two broke the ice," Perry declared. "Now Lane, Kent is our newest reporter. I want you to take him with you; let him shadow you. Show him the ropes."

Lois' mouth opened wide, and her hands went to her hips. "Perry, I don't have time to show this hayseed around! It'll be like Jimmy …" she looked over at Clark, smiling slightly. "… only better looking—a lot better looking."

"Kent's a rookie, but he's no greenhorn," Perry countered. "He's the one who's been sending me those stories from Yugoslavia. The man's a natural."

Lois stood and pouted for a few moments. "Well, if I don't have a choice …"

"You don't," Perry confirmed.

"Then I'll do it." She turned to Clark, flashing him that big grin. "Nothing personal, Smallville."

Clark just smiled and nodded, choosing to keep his mouth shut and just watch. Lois Lane was a Pulitzer winner, and one of his heroes in the business. To be paired with her on his first day was an immense honor. It was time to learn from the very best in the business. This was turning out better than he could have imagined.

Perry looked at them, slowly boiling, until he sounded off. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Right, Chief," Lois said. "You heard the man, Smallville; let's get cracking!"

Clark pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Ma'am."

As soon as Perry's door closed behind them, she wheeled on him, pointing her finger right in his chest. Had he not stopped in time, he imagined she would have ended up with a broken digit.

"Listen, Smallville; I'm Ms. Lane—not Lois, and certainly 'Ma'am.' Jeez! I'm not even thirty! Now come on."

"Of course, Miss Lane."

Lois smiled back at him. "Much better." Then she sashayed to the elevator.

Clark rolled his eyes, and looked up, hoping she would become more personable as the day wore on, and then followed her into the elevator. She smiled again as she pushed the button to take them to the lobby. He pondered making small-talk with her, but opted to let her take the lead on conversation as well.

"Just do as I say, Smallville, and we'll get along just fine."

Clark repeated, "Of course, Miss Lane," prompting Lois to smile again. This was not at all how he had pictured her acting. It was like she was in high school. Still, there was something about her …

* * *

 **Lois led Clark out of the building ...**

... and down the street, then suddenly stopped, an 'ah' expression on her face, which changed into a very beautiful, but very mischievous smile.

"Say, Clark, you being the newbie, it's tradition that you buy me a grande mocha latte. Go ahead and get one for yourself as well." Lois inclined her head toward the Starbucks they were standing in front of.

Clark just smiled, knowing what was about to happen. "Of course, Miss Lane."

"That's a dear," Lois said, patting his upper arm. Her eyebrows went up as she touched him. "Wow! You're like steel!"

Clark just nodded again. "Back in a jiffy, Miss Lane."

As Smallville went to get the coffee, Lois breathed a sigh of relief. _Rid of him at last_ , she thought. Having ditched Smallville, Lois began running toward a yellow cab, shouting, "Taxi!"

The car stopped, but a sound like a jet engine sounded close overhead, and then something fired down at the taxi from above, blowing both it, and the driver, to smithereens. Lois was blown back, only to be caught in the arms of a man clad in blue spandex—a very muscular man in blue spandex. The door of the cab was flying at her, but he simply caught it with his free hand.

"Take cover, Ma'am," the stranger said, pushing her behind him. Now she could see him; he wore blue tights, with red trunks overtop, like a nineteen-forties wrestler or strongman, with red leather boots and a flowing red cape with a yellow shield on the back, what looked like a very stylized ... 'S'? ... etched into it. He was tall, an easy six-four. Her eyes instinctively went to his posterior, which displayed well formed, muscular glutes. _Nice ass_ , she thought, as the muscle-man sprung into action. Overhead, those damned armored terrorists were flying, raining death and destruction from above. The muscle-man leapt into the air, flying, but with no mechanism, no machinery; just—flying! Instead of taking cover as the man had instructed, Lois pulled her camera out, and began taking pictures.

The muscle-man sported the same stylized 'S' on his chest as well, only in red on a yellow field, and she decided that he must be some kind of superman. The attacks from the armored men, who had come to be called the D.F.A. (Death from Above) Gang, had no effect on him, but in seconds, he had rounded them up, hurling them to the ground, and firing—lasers?—from his eyes, disabling their weapons. In short order, he had eliminated the D.F.A. Gang, something the S.C.U. had been unable to accomplish in the months since it was commissioned.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" The superman gracefully landed in front of her, like a god descending from the sky.

"I—uh—I …" Lois was tongue tied. Finally, looking at the stylized 'S,' she blurted out, "Superman!"

Superman just nodded, as if she had just called him by his actual name. "Yes, Miss Lane?"

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, Miss Lane," he replied. "I read your work."

As he spoke, the S.C.U. arrived, Captain Sawyer amazed to find the D.F.A. Gang giftwrapped, and awaiting transport. Without their armor, they looked like mercenaries. Tough, no doubt, but no match for the superman.

"Friend or foe," Maggie said warily, her and her unit's guns trained on Superman.

"Friend," he replied. Then he furrowed his brow, and gritted his teeth. "I stopped them. I only wish I could have saved the cab driver."

"You saved everyone else," Lois blurted out. "That—that was amazing!"

Superman shook his head. "One death is one too many." He turned to Captain Sawyer. "Captain, they're all ready for you. Glad to be of service."

He was everything Lois could have wanted in a man; his face was handsome, with deep set, piercing blue eyes. A chiseled jaw, and a strong chin, and hair so dark that it had blue undertones, all capped off a body that looked like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo. Lois felt light headed just looking at him, and thought she might faint, but Superman gracefully swept her off of her feet.

"I'd better get you back to your desk, Miss Lane."

Lois just nodded as he gently flew her right up to the Planet's news-room, flying in through the window. Everyone just stared as Superman landed, carrying Lois to her desk, and placing her into her chair. Olsen feverishly snapped pictures.

"You look to be in good health, Miss Lane," he declared. "No broken bones, and no cuts or bruises. The city will be glad to know that the D.F.A. Gang is no longer a threat. Give them some good news, Lois."

"But where are you going?"

He just smiled. "Others need my help, Miss Lane. Farewell."

With that, he flew out the window. Lois was shaking. _I've been held by a god_ , she thought. _And I have the pictures to prove it!_

* * *

 **Gotham City**

A black gloved fist slammed into the Joker's jaw, dislocating it, and sending him spinning through the air, landing with a thud on the ground, unconscious. The Clown Prince, as the papers sometimes called him, had gone on a murderous rampage, using a gas that left people dead, their faces twisted into a demented grin, their skin bleached white, and their hair turned green. This time it was a school. Batman had stopped him, and the police were on their way. He could wrap the Joker up, leaving the Clown Prince for the Police—or he could snap his neck and end it.

Unfortunately, Batman wanted to uphold the law, and part of that meant getting criminals like the Joker arrested and tried for their crimes. Commissioner Gordon had proven to be a valuable ally, and Bruce wondered what Gotham had done to deserve such a good man. Then new D.A., Harvey Dent, was now taking it to criminals in the courtroom as well. Convictions were sticking, the police were not so corrupt as they had been a month ago, and the Batman had the underworld nervous.

Batman left the Joker bloody and bruised, hogtied and gagged for the police, and took off in his "Batmobile," as the papers were calling it, and hurried back to the "Bat Cave," as Alfred called it. The car came to rest in its berth, and the Batman got out, removing his cowl, revealing the face of Bruce Wayne.

"Ah, you're back, Master Wayne," Alfred called as Bruce strode up the stairs to his command center. "You might want to see this. I think he's a friend of yours."

Alfred handed him the paper, and Bruce read the headline: "Superman Stops D.F.A. Gang! By Lois Lane." Lane's photography was excellent, getting a nice close up of Superman. Bruce looked closely, and there was no mistake: Superman was none other than his old friend, Clark Kent.

"It seems you both have a flair for the theatrical," Alfred said with a chuckle.

Bruce nodded, but continued to look at the photos of the captured D.F.A. Gang, and he did not like what he saw.

"Those suits, Alfred; they're ours!"

"I don't follow, Master Wayne."

"Wayne Enterprises," Bruce clarified. "These were developed for the military by Wayne Enterprises, but they were turned down for being deemed too expensive. What are they doing in Metropolis?"

"I don't know, Master Wayne, but perhaps your friend could be of some assistance; look at the lower fold—Clark apparently 'remained' after 'Superman' flew Miss Lane to safety. He did a detailed analysis on the suits, though he seems to feel that the parts were 'stolen' from LexCorp."

Bruce laughed heartily. "Clark, you walking Disney character! You son-of-a-gun! You did it! You're the reporter you always wanted to be, and you found a way to use those powers of yours. I like it, but I think it's time for Bruce Wayne—and the Batman—to pay a visit to Metropolis."

"I've already secured tickets to Lex Luthor's Annual Charity Gala," Alfred informed. "Shall I prepare the Rolls?"

"Yes," Bruce said. "But I'll need a base of operations in Metropolis if this is going to work." Bruce pulled up city map, then located what he was looking for. "There. It's for sale. I want to own it by tomorrow night."

"An abandoned airfield?"

"And a hangar," Bruce noted. "It'll be perfect. Buy it through a shell company; I don't want it traced to me."

"Very well, Master Wayne. I'll make the arrangements."

As Alfred left the Bat Cave, leaving Bruce with a piping hot mug of coffee, Bruce pondered the emergence of Superman. Clark could save the world—but he was still a rookie. That much was clear from Lane's story. Bruce had an idea. Batman would test the Man of Steel. And if Clark passed, he would come through even better than before.

Bruce drank deeply of the dark liquid, and then set the mug down, smiling. "See you soon ... Clark."


	3. Chapter 3

**This is a new section. I realized that there was a major oversight in this story, which chronicles Superman's debut in Metropolis. So without further adieu, I give you ...**

 **The Interview of the Century**

Lois Lane had written her piece on Superman right away, making him front page news on the Planet's evening edition, as well as the morning edition the day after. Lois' article for the evening edition was a blow by blow account of what she had experienced, while Clark Kent's companion story on the D.F.A. Armor shed more light on just how much more powerful Superman was. In the months since the D.F.A. Gang had appeared, the newly formed S.C.U. had been unable to put a dent in their activities, so advanced was their equipment.

Made from allegedly stolen LexCorp parts, and based on a pirated Waynetech design, the police and S.C.U. were essentially fighting an army of Ironman suits. Even Maggie's S.C.U. stood no chance against them. After Clark's detailed analysis of their armor, it was clear that Superman was far more powerful than anyone initially thought.

In the days that followed the sudden appearance of the Superman, the Man of Steel seemed to be everywhere. Clark's stories on gentrification in the Simon Project were relegated to the bottom fold of the front page, or to pages within the paper. Superman was on everyone's minds, and it was not just the Planet that wrote about him; he was front page on the Star, the Times, and literally every other paper in the nation. But as much as he was written about, nobody had yet scored an interview with the Man of Steel. Lois could not let that stand, and she could not allow anyone else to scoop her ... but how do you land a story with a mystery man who moved at supersonic speed?

On a Sunday evening, one full week after the appearance of Superman, Lois was heading home. Clark had been her dutiful shadow the week before, but had begun taking on stories of his own. He seemed particularly interested in the gentrification of the Simon Project, and was determined to expose the true costs of the effort. Lois cheered him on, glad that he was leaving the important stories to her. Stories like Lex Luthor. While Clark had been the one to do the story about the armor, Lois had been digging into the supposed theft of the parts to build it. She was convinced that Luthor had not been stolen from, and said as much in one of her many negative articles on the tech mogul. _I'm close_ , she thought. _I can feel it, but every time I think I've got something it just evaporates_.

She parked her Jeep, but as she opened the door to get out, rough, gloved hands took hold of her arm, and pulled her from the vehicle, hurling her into the street, right in the path of an oncoming car. She screamed, and was suddenly airborne. She thought she had been hit, and thrown, but there had been no impact. opening her eyes, she realized that she was hovering in the air, held aloft by ... Superman. Enfolded in his powerful embrace, she felt untouchable, safe from harm ... and loved. Was it her imagination? Did he feel for her what she felt for him? Heart pounded in her chest as she looked into his eyes.

Her black clad, ski mask wearing assailant, in the meantime, tried to run, turning to fire a pistol at Lois. Superman caught the bullets, and then exhaled a blast of frigid air, blowing the man to the ground.

When he landed and set Lois down, she ran to examine her attacker. He shivered, covered in frost, with ice sickles forming on his clothes. She turned and looked back at Superman, who surprisingly had not flown away.

"You have freeze breath too?"

He simply nodded.

"What else can you do?"

"More than I would be willing to reveal to a reporter, even a lovely reporter like you, Miss Lane.

That was disheartening, but unsurprising. She felt her cheeks flush at his compliment, and looked down. "Oh ... well, thanks ... do you really think I'm lovely?"

He nodded and smiled. "I do. You should call the police. I ..."

"Wait!" Not knowing if he was about to fly off, Lois threw herself onto him, and hugged him tightly. "Please don't fly away, not yet."

"The police haven't arrived, Miss Lane. I won't leave until they do."

She relaxed and went to her car phone, dialing the police quickly. After confirming that a car was on the way, she went back to Superman, determined to get an interview. She only hoped that she would not come off like a love struck fan girl.

"While we're waiting, would you answer some questions on the record?"

"Of course, Miss Lane."

"First things first; what does the big red 'S' really stand for?"

He chuckled. "It's not a red 'S' on a yellow field, Miss Lane. It's a yellow glyph on a red field, and it represents hope."

That made sense, and now she looked at his emblem in a different light. "Like a hieroglyph?"

"More like a kanji, Miss Lane."

"So ... it's Japanese?"

"No, Miss Lane."

His answers were brief and to the point. She had hoped he would be more talkative. "Okay, Superman; why are you here?"

"You've seen the state of the world, Miss Lane; Humanity needs help. Problems will never go away - there's no silver bullet for that."

"So ... what do you fight for?"

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "Never thought of it as fighting, but put that way, I fight a never ending battle for truth, justice, and freedom."

"Never ending battle?"

Superman nodded. "All of history has been humanity's struggle against forces of hatred, violence, and injustice. I have no illusions that I can bring an end to these things, not alone at least." Superman turned and looked as the police cars were arriving. "Good bye, Miss Lane. I'm sure we'll meet again - soon I hope."

As he floated into the air to fly away, still waving, Lois snapped his picture with the small camera she always carried. He smiled and waved, and then flew off. She felt her heart pounding. Just looking at him made her breathless, and she was amazed she had been able to even ask him any objective questions. His answers were far more brief than she had hoped, even bordering on evasive, but it did not matter: Lois Lane had just scored the very first interview with Superman!

* * *

 **Saved by Superman!**

That was the headline of the Monday Morning edition of the Daily Planet. Lois Lane beamed as she held the paper in her hand. The picture she had taken adorned the front page: her man, her Man of Tomorrow looking at her and smiling from the paper. Her cheeks flushed and her heart skipped a beat just looking at his image.

Before she could contemplate further, Clark returned from Starbucks, a coffee in each hand. He glided over to her desk ... _he glides_ , she thought. Clark did not lumber like some oaf of a farm boy. Clark moved with the grace of Fred Astaire. He's gonna make some little country girl happy one day.

"Here you are, Miss Lane," Clark said, handing her the coffee. "Nice work on the Superman interview, by the way."

"Thank you, Clark," she replied, flashing him a smile. "You've been really showing off your talent too - my best protégé yet!"

Clark was about to respond, when suddenly, Perry blew out of his office, and into the newsroom, holding a copy of the paper aloft. "Ladies and gentlemen, this - this is what I'm talking about! This is the kind of work I want to see!"

Lois beamed, but when Perry walked over, he placed a hand on both her own, and Clark's shoulders. "Lois nailed down the very first interview with Superman; a coup for the Planet, and Kent has been putting out some hard hitting stories on the Simon Project. This is what the Planet is supposed be doing - everyday. Kent and Lane ... I'll be putting you together on something in the next few days. I want to see what the two of you can do together."

Lois looked at Clark, a slight feeling of panic. "Do I really have to share a byline with Smallville?" Then she quickly added, "No offense, Clark."

"None taken," Clark said.

"I see the beginnings of greatness with you two, Lois," Perry admonished. "Don't blow it."

* * *

 **Riddles in the Dark … Knight**

Lois stepped out of the elevator, feeling as though a storm-cloud were over her head—and acting like it too. Just two days ago, Lois was the triumphant victor; the woman who nailed the first, and as yet, only interview with Superman. Now, she felt utterly defeated. Nothing had gone right this morning; her hot water heater was gone, so her shower was cold, and the power had apparently gone out overnight at some point, so her alarm never went off, greeting her instead with a blinking 12:00 about five minutes before she needed to leave to get to work on time. There was no time for coffee, which meant drinking the swill at the office—or waiting until she could get Clark to go to Starbucks for her. Clark - he was her last hope on that front, but he had consistently been buying her coffee for a week. As soon as she saw him, she would send him out straight away.

As she muttered and grumbled her way from the elevator to her desk, the rest of the newsroom wisely ignored her—all but three, that is. The first was Cat Grant, who added insult to injury.

"Aww, wittle Wois having a bad day? Wake up awone?" Cat then gave her a look of feigned pity. "Oh, I forgot; Wois Wane always wakes up awone."

"Dammit, Cat! I am not in the mood!"

Before Lois could light into Cat, the second person, Perry, intruded upon her melancholy. "Lane, you planning to turn in that story on the Mayor's indiscretion with the LexCorp lobbyist today? Or are you on Hawaii time?"

"I'll have it this morning, Chief," Lois said, forcing a smile through her misery.

Perry just nodded, and returned to his office.

The third person was Clark Kent, who stood at her desk, in his hands, two piping hot venti cups of Starbucks; venti cups no less, and on his face, a warm smile. "New guy buys the coffee, right?"

Lois lunged and snatched the coffee from his hand, imbibing the sweet drink— _oh, he got it right!_ —quickly. It was just the right temperature; hot, but not too hot to gulp down.

"Clark, you are a lifesaver! Thank you!"

You're welcome," he replied. Then he gave her a slightly worried look. "Everything alright, Lois?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, Smallville," she replied testily, "but my power went out, and my hot water heater is dead." She flounced back into her chair, still holding the coffee like it was the Holy Grail. "My alarm didn't go off, my shower was cold, and I couldn't get coffee." Then she smiled in spite of herself. "But you fixed that last one, Clark. Thank you."

Lois leaned forward, crossing her legs, placing her elbows on her desk, just smiling at him. He was such a lug; all she had to do was flash a little kindness, and his cheeks would redden up for her. _Gotta be careful not to overdo it_ , she thought. _This could be useful. And after seeing his follow up on the armor the D.F.A. Gang was using, he's definitely got the nose for news_. She gazed at his tall, muscular frame. Even in business attire, his powerful physique was unmistakable. Then there were his eyes. Something about them—oh, they were gorgeous, for sure, but there was something else. She could not put her finger on it, though.

"Nice work last week, by the way," she complimented. "First the D.F.A. armor, then that gentrification story on the Simon Project; you're a quick study, Smallville." Then she smiled, causing his cheeks to redden, just as she knew they would. "And you brought me my latte after all that too, so—'Clark' has replaced 'Hayseed' as your secondary nickname."

"But 'Smallville' is still my first, eh?"

Lois smiled and raised her cup, taking a sip. "You know it, Smallville."

Kent seemed to take her quips in stride, never getting upset or cross with her. She supposed that a man who spent a few years in a warzone as a humanitarian volunteer, getting shot at, threatened, and dodging landmines, was mostly inured to her newsroom jabs. Still, other seasoned reporters let her get under their skin, so Clark was unique. Perhaps today, she would not ditch him.

"So Clark," she opened. "It's been more than a week: what do you think of Superman?"

"He's powerful," Clark replied. "Clearly, he's stronger than any of the D.F.A. members were in their hard-suits. Over the past week, he's lifted cars, stopped trains, caught a falling 747, and seems to be able to move at astonishing speeds; fast enough to be from one end of the city to the other in seconds. He's seemingly invulnerable to guns of all sizes, and even the D.F.A. weaponry, which means he's essentially above the law, and that could be problematic."

Lois looked at him with exasperation, her mouth open, her upper lip curling slightly. "Clark! How can you say that? I mean, he's worked consistently with the police, and he …"

"Don't pay her any mind," Cat chimed in, leaning over the soft wall behind Lois's desk, and displaying ample cleavage. "She's been gaga over that big blue hunk since he saved her from the D.F.A. Gang. Probably blew up one of those pictures, and plastered it on her ceiling so she could …"

"Cat!" Lois had to fight the urge to throw the coffee into Cat's face, the lid on the top being the only thing keeping her from wasting the latte.

"I think you make good point, Lois," Clark said, ignoring Cat's personal comments. "He does work with the police, and he definitely saves lives. But Superman needs to be checked by the press, just like any powerful person. You spoke with him, Lois; I'm sure you'd agree that, based on what little we know, he'd say the same thing."

Lois flounced back again. Kent had a point, and unfortunately, so did Cat; one meeting, and Lois Lane could not be less objective about the Man of Steel. Clark was kind of cute, in a hayseed, small town kind of way, but Superman—she had been completely undone. Much as she hated to admit it, Cat was right—and so was Clark.

"So let's put our heads together, shall we?" She leaned forward again, her head back in the game. "What do we know about him?"

"He possesses inhuman strength, speed, full flight, is immune to energy weapons, gunfire, and flying car doors, and he emits a focused energy beam from his eyes."

"And he speaks with the Midwestern accent of a young Peter Jennings." Lois rested her chin in her hands, and sighed. "Only lower, and sexier."

"Okay," Clark said. "He's got a voice for news, that still makes women swoon."

"Yeah, kind of like—you, Clark."

"Me?"

"Don't act so surprised, Clark," Lois chided. "Cat stares across the newsroom at you all day, and come on, Clark; I'm a woman. Don't think I don't notice you."

Clark reddened up at this. "If I'm doing anything inappropriate …"

Lois cut him off with a giggle. "Of course not," she assured. "That's what makes it work. Now, Superman; how could a man do the things he does without wearing any visible equipment?"

"Nanotechnology is still in its infancy," Clark observed. "Even the D.F.A. Gang's equipment, compact and amazing as it is, is nothing compared to Superman. Even that Batman vigilante in Gotham doesn't have a suit like that, and he's got an arsenal of gadgets, an advanced, gadget laden car, and a motorcycle of similar capability—if the Gotham Times is to be believed. And honestly, it's their equipment that concerns me more than Superman."

"Oh?" Lois found this puzzling. "A moment ago, you were saying that the Man of Tomorrow needs to be checked. Now, you're more worried about a washed up gang? I don't get it."

"That's just it," Clark replied. "It's not the gang—assuming they've all been caught, but the equipment. Come on, Lois; you saw those clowns. They didn't build that stuff on their own, and they sure didn't just find it lying around. Someone supplied them, or they engineered a heist of military grade experimental hardsuits. If they stole the gear, that's one thing, but if they were supplied, then whoever the hand moving behind the scenes belongs to can put together another D.F.A. Gang at their leisure." Then he raised an eyebrow. "Man of Tomorrow?"

Lois shrugged, and flashed him a guilty smile. "My tomorrow. A girl can dream, right?"

Clark just nodded, smiling approvingly. Then he shifted to business mode again. "Say Lois, what was the upshot on your would be killer?"

"I'm convinced he's connected to Luthor. Everything points to it ... but ..."

"But you can't nail anything down," Clark noted.

"Same old story," she sighed. "But one day ..."

Before the conversation went further, the mail courier walked by and handed Clark an envelope. "Weird," was all the courier said.

Clark looked at the envelope, and raised an eyebrow above his glasses. "Speaking of whom …" He held it up for Lois to see. The envelope had Clark's name on it, but surrounding the name, 'Clark Kent,' was a bat symbol.

"Open it, Clark."

Clark opened it as Lois requested, and removed what looked like a greeting card. It was thick, like the ones that had music. "It's—a riddle."

"A riddle?" This piqued Lois' interest.

"Do not open this card until you answer. If you answer rightly, then you shall be rewarded. If not, then this card will—blow up." He looked perturbed. "The riddle is this: there are two sisters: one gives birth to the other and she, in turn, gives birth to the first. Who are the two sisters?"

Lois furrowed her brow. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"Day and night," Clark said.

"What?"

"Day and night," Clark repeated. "It was the second riddle the Sphinx asked of Oedipus, which upon hearing Oedipus answer correctly, she devoured herself."

Lois' face contorted in disgust. "Ew!"

He opened the card, and it began speaking. "Congratulations; you are as quick with your wits as you are with your reflexes. You have passed the first test, and will be rewarded with a second within three days." Upon finishing its recording, the card burst into flames. Amazingly, Clark was able to blow it out with a sharp exhalation. With the flames out, all that remained of the card was a paper shield with an S in the center, the rest of the card burned away in the conflagration.

Lois brow furrowed. "A Superman 'S'? Why?"

 _That's what I'd like to know_ , Clark thought.

Working with Lois had been less stressful than he thought it would be. His gift of coffee when she really needed it had changed her tune notably. Thankfully, the subject of the Superman 'S' in the card from Batman had not come up again. Why would a card addressed to Clark explode in such a peculiar manner? The obvious answer: the Batman knew that he was Superman. Thankfully, Lois had not made the connection, though she was dangerously close. She had already noted the similarities in their voices, and it was too late for him to alter the way Clark Kent spoke.

Clark had devised the suit as a way of drawing attention from his human guise, and the 'S' was actually not an 'S', but a Kryptonian glyph, which was actually composed of the yellow elements on a red field; not a red 'S' on a yellow field, as Lois supposed. Now, she had dubbed him, "Superman." He rather liked that; the whole point of the getup was for people to think of someone other than Clark Kent. But at the same time, he had to be careful. Clark had fallen hard for Lois, and in spite of two days of her showing little or no interest in him, he remained smitten. But while Clark was merely a colleague, Superman was the object of her desire. He realized that he could have her at his beck and call as Superman, but that would be wrong. Clark wanted to win her honestly, and he wanted to do it the old fashioned way. Most of all, he did not want her to feel betrayed upon learning the truth, so he needed to be stringently careful about use of his dual identity when it came to Lois.

Of greater importance was the Batman. How did he know that Clark Kent was Superman? It was 1994, but even so, facial recognition technology was mostly a novelty, and Clark Kent's image was hardly commonplace. There were no photos of him in the paper, and Superman had only appeared once. His conclusion was that the Batman already knew Clark Kent, and recognized him in Lois' photographs. Clark had come into contact with many people over the years, but he only knew one person from Gotham, though Bruce seemed an unlikely candidate for the Batman. Still, Bruce was the only one who could logically connect the Man of Steel to Clark Kent.

An analysis of the card had revealed that if Clark had given the wrong answer, it would have blown confetti in his face. He had been following news reports of Gotham's Dark Knight, and had even done a couple of fly-overs. It seemed that Batman stayed on the right side of the law, seeking justice, not vengeance, and doing quite a bit to help the downtrodden of the city. In one fly-over, he had spied the Batman in action, and had resisted the urge to use his vision powers to see through the mask; Clark wanted his own identity to be secret, and felt he should respect the Batman's wishes in this matter. But now, Batman had pierced the Man of Steel's identity, and less than a month after making his first public appearance, so the next time they met, Clark would be less careful about peaking. He needed to talk to Bruce, and that opportunity would be upon him soon; Lex Luthor's Annual Charity Gala was looming in just two days, and Bruce Wayne was rumored to be on the guest-list—and Lois and Clark had been assigned to cover it.

The gala seemed a mundane event for a reporter of Lois' stature and ability, but for some reason, she seemed determined to be there. Clark had not met Lex Luthor, and had no real opinion of the man, but Lois seemed determined to find something on the Metropolis tech mogul. She was convinced that he was dirty, and if Lois suspected that Luthor was dirty, then there was likely some truth to it. With Bruce Wayne thrown into the mix the evening was sure to be colorful at the very least.

* * *

Clark had figured it out in half a second, probably faster. Bruce smiled triumphantly. The Oedipus question had been Alfred's idea, but Bruce had been certain that Clark would get it, though even Bruce had not expected him to get it so rapidly. Clark had passed the first test, and soon, the second test would begin. This one would test the Man of Steel's hearing, reaction time, and most importantly, his decision making. The appropriate proxies had been paid, and the equipment was all in place. Monitoring equipment was also in place.

Additionally, the real estate deal had gone through without a hitch, and Bruce now owned an airfield, complete with hangar, just outside Metropolis. Building it out would be a challenge, particularly the way he wanted it built out, and he would need to do a lot of it himself. Time consuming, and tedious to be sure, but the end result would be worth it. Bruce closed the file on the airfield and stood, having spent enough time in the Bat Cave. It was time to move forward with his visit to Metropolis, where after many years, he would be reunited with Clark Kent.

* * *

It had been two days since receiving the exploding card from Batman, and a second test had not yet been presented. With the gala just around the corner, Lois had stepped up her investigations into Lex Luthor, thoroughly convinced after Clark's analysis of the D.F.A. armor that the tech mogul and real estate magnate was somehow involved; there had been no reports of LexCorp losing any sensitive equipment, but suddenly, Luthor was claiming that a shipment had gone missing. Just a day ago, the police and F.B.I. had nothing. Now, suddenly, there were weeks of reports. Clark had to agree; this was more than suspicious, and certainly no coincidence.

Lois walked briskly, though Clark had no trouble keeping up with her. Jazzed on java, courtesy of Clark once again, Lois was marching into the Metropolis Museum of Natural History, she and Clark on an assignment to investigate a break-in the night before. It seemed only one item had been taken; a rare meteorite that had been recovered by a Kansas farmer, a neighbor of the Kents, in fact, back in 1966.

"I was debating on ditching you, Clark," Lois began condescendingly. She then turned and flashed him that smile. "But you keep buying me coffee without my having to ask, and you do ask good questions. I also thought, since this came from one of your neighbor's farms back when you were an infant, you might have some insight."

"Maybe," Clark agreed. "I'll do what I can, Lois."

Given how his parents had found him, Clark could not believe that the theft of the meteor, less than a month after the first appearance of Superman, was a coincidence. But what was the connection?

They found the curator, a Doctor Lori Benton, easily enough; she was waiting for them. The woman looked lost, wearing a women's tweed suit, sporting thick glasses, and coifed with a head of reddish-blonde hair that looked disheveled. Clark knew the type; he doubted she would thrive outside of an academic environment.

As soon as she spotted Lois, Doctor Benton ran to them, tripping over herself, and falling forward. Clark was there in an instant to catch her, hoping that his display of speed did not raise any suspicions with Lois.

"Oh, dear me," Doctor Benton gasped in what Clark found to be a delightful British accent. "That was a close one!" She looked up at Clark, and her cheeks reddened, the woman staring at him, her mouth opened in an expression of surprise mixed with admiration.

"Oh brother," Lois exclaimed.

Clark righted Doctor Benton, who held onto him just a moment too long as he let go of her. _Guess this is how I must look around Lois_ , he thought, chuckling to himself.

"Are you alright, Doctor?"

"I am now, Mister …"

"Kent," Clark replied. "Clark Kent. And this," he motioned to Lois, "Is Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. I'm just here as an assist."

He stepped to the side deferentially, allowing a visibly grateful Lois to step in and get things started.

"Doctor Benton," Lois said, shaking the woman's hand, even though Benton still was looking at Clark. "Tell me more about this stolen meteorite."

This snapped Benton back into focus. "Oh, yes, of course, Ms. Lane. Come right this way." Benton began filling them in as they walked. "Seems that last night, somebody got into the museum after hours."

"They must have had some pretty sophisticated equipment to get past security," Lois commented.

"Yes—well, no," Benton said contrarily. "Well, actually, we think they evaded security before the museum closed, and remained after hours."

"That explains how they got in without tripping the alarm," Lois noted. "But they did trip an alarm when they stole the rock, correct?"

Benton nodded as they walked into the geology section. "Yes, Ms. Lane," the doctor confirmed. "We think they remained hidden until they thought the time was right, at which point they came out, killed two security guards, and smashed the glass—as you can see here." She stopped in front of a small niche, smashed glass at its opening, and police tape around it.

Clark used his x-ray vision, and noticed that the glass was a lead crystal instead of regular plate glass.

"Doctor Benton," he said, "Why use lead glass instead of plate glass? Also, this meteor was definitely not in a place of prominence. What's the appeal? Why kill two people just to get it?"

Lois shot him a perturbed glance, then looked back at Benton. "Yeah, Doctor. What's up with that?"

Benton nodded. "Yes, well, um, the meteor was shot through with veins of an ore that resembled emerald, but which emitted a high band radiation. We thought it best to shield the public from any ill effects, even though, as far as we could tell, it was harmless." Then she looked at Clark, flashing him a surreptitious smile. "As for its prominence, apart from being unidentified, and being from space, it had no prominence at all."

"Yes; it was found by a neighbor of mine actually," Clark added. "Wayne Irig. In fact, it was found around the time I was born. The museum paid him good money; apparently, it helped him keep his farm."

"And in twenty-eight years, nobody's found anything unusual about this rock?" Lois' question was almost an accusation.

"Uh, apart from the emission of a high-band radiation, nothing whatsoever," Lori replied. "The levels weren't even particularly high; we took precautions mainly out of concern for liability—you know; don't want people saying they got cancer from the museum, right?"

Lois nodded, pursing her lips. Before the conversation could go further, Clark heard a loud, screeching sound. It came on sharply, and in a frequency above what humans could hear.

" _The only thing on less than four legs that can hear this is you, Superman_ ," said a disguised voice that was buried in the sound. " _This is your second test. You have a choice to make; there is a suicidal girl atop a building in Metropolis, who is about to jump to her death in one minute's time. In another part of the city, there is bomb. You will have to find and disarm the bomb, or you will have to save the girl. Even you, with your great speed, will never be able to do both. You now have forty-seven seconds. Choose—but choose wisely_."

Clark surreptitiously pressed a button on his pocket pager, making it sound. "Gotta take this," he declared, departing before either Lois or Lori could respond. Thankfully, he had become inured to high frequency sounds, so he did not make any sudden, discomforted expressions at the sounding of the screech.

Hitting the museum's revolving door at nearly the speed of sound, the door spun like a tornado, and when it stopped, Superman stood on the stairs in front of the building, onlookers, gasping and gawking at his sudden appearance. He scanned the city, mixing his x-ray and telescopic vision powers, and located both the "suicidal" girl and the bomb.

With a powerful sonic boom, Superman was on the move. Thankfully, the bomb was between him and the girl, so he simply grabbed it, and continued on, catching the girl as she stepped off the building's ledge. The girl was shocked at his sudden appearance.

"Superman?" She looked up at him tearfully. "What are you doing here?"

"Hold that thought," he replied. The bomb's casing was lined with lead, so he could not analyze it, and he had no idea how to disarm a bomb in any case, so he simply cocked back his right arm, and threw the bomb with all his might, sending it in to the stratosphere, where it blew up in a shower of confetti. _Another harmless prank_ , he thought.

"I—I'm so glad that someone actually cares, Superman," the girl said.

He nodded. "Yes, but you wore a parachute, just in case, right?"

She looked at him sheepishly. "Guilty as charged. Please don't be mad at me, Superman; I needed the money to pay my rent, and the man who paid me to do this paid my lease off for the year."

"Did he now?" Superman had suspected Bruce of being the Batman, and this served as further confirmation.

"He did," she assured. "He also promised that nobody would be hurt, but that was a bomb in your hand!"

"Harmless," Superman replied. "Just confetti."

He landed on the sidewalk, gaping onlookers standing and staring, as he set the girl down on her feet.

"Next time I have to catch you," he warned, "you will buy me a coffee; one of those expensive Starbucks fru-fru drinks. Got it?"

This proved not to be the harmless threat he had hoped for, as her eyes lit up, and she grinned at his words. "If you promise to stay and drink it with me, I'll jump at least once a week!"

He looked sternly at her. "Don't push it, young lady." Then he did something he did not ordinarily do; he took off swiftly, the wind blast knocking her back. It was time to confront the Batman.

* * *

Clark had passed the test in a most spectacularly unexpected way. Bruce had expected him to catch the girl first, and then spend time looking for the bomb, phoning the police as he searched. Instead, he proved far faster than Bruce had anticipated, and located the bomb and the girl in less than a second, and hurtling the bomb into space, where its explosion would have been harmless—had it actually been deadly. Superman had vanished from the sensors that Bruce had put into place, his speed being too much for the equipment. A sonic boom sounded outside the cave, causing Bruce to jump, falling out of his chair.

"Bruce Wayne." It was Clark, and he sounded mad. "You have some explaining to do."

 _Guess there's no need to devise a third test_ , Bruce thought, grinning in spite of himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**From the Slums to the S.T.A.R.s**

Superman had, in less than ten seconds, pierced the identity of the Batman, and had located the Batcave. Bruce was impressed, and wondered just how extensive Clark's powers had become. Clearly, he could do much, much more than fly and lift heavy objects. He knew that Clark was smart, though Bruce never pegged him as a detective. His rump still hurt from falling out of the chair. _I deserved that_ , he thought. Slowly, he stood, turning to face the Man of Steel.

"Congratulations, Clark; you passed."

Clark nodded, but his expression remained neutral. Kent had always been good at keeping a poker face. He had never been the actor that Bruce had become, but he was good at keeping his emotions under wraps.

"The tests were clearly not harmful," Clark replied. "And I saw through them immediately. Figured it was you after the first one, but the second one confirmed my suspicion."

"Oh?" Bruce was curious.

Clark nodded again. "When the girl said that her employer paid her rent for the year, it seemed more Bruce Wayne than Lex Luthor."

Bruce grinned. "Guilty as charged, old friend." He embraced Clark, who responded kind. He was pretty sure Clark had been annoyed by the tests, but true to form, could not stay mad. "It's great to see you again, Clark. Truly! Also, good to see you making a mark at the Planet! Your writing continues to get better."

"Coming from you, that's high praise Bruce, but what have you been up to? How did you're your sojourn to Japan go?"

Bruce grinned again. "Educational. And as you've already gathered, I put the skills to use right away. Interesting that you mention Luthor, by the way; he's the reason I'm testing you—well, part of the reason anyway."

"Luthor? What do you have on him? Lois is convinced he's dirty, but she can't get anything on him."

"Nothing solid," Bruce replied, his consternation creeping into his voice. "Just a long trail of little things that are too numerous and too frequent for it to be mere coincidence."

Clark nodded. "You might want to compare notes with Lois; between the two of you, you might be able to come up with something solid."

"You too, Clark," Bruce encouraged. "Your story on the D.F.A. gang's armor is what really got me moving on this. If you'd been in Metropolis longer, I suspect you'd have compiled a nice little dossier Luthor yourself."

"Well, you'll be in Metropolis for Luthor's Gala," Clark noted. "Lois and I will be there as well."

"Your date?"

Clark looked down, and sighed. "I wish. 'Clark Kent' is as taken in by Lois Lane as Lois Lane is taken in by Superman."

Bruce laughed. "Oh, the tangled web you've woven."

"To make matters worse, she's already buzzing about you being there," Clark added. "Seems she's not just sweet on Superman; she's been drooling over that 'sexiest man alive' issue of People you appeared on last month."

"Hmmm. I have a contingency for that one, Clark; but you'll have to trust me." Clark raised an eyebrow at this, but Bruce just smiled and held up his index finger. "Clark, you got me through an impossible situation when we were young. Apart from Alfred, you're my oldest and truest friend. My methods are a little—unorthodox, but whatever happens, trust me. As far as Luthor goes, though, I have reason to believe he's involved in your museum robbery."

This time, both of Clark's eyebrows raised. "Luthor? What on earth for?"

"Not sure; still piecing that together."

"Yeah, but what makes you think he's involved?"

"I look for patterns, Clark," Bruce explained. "Nothing is random; there have been a small number of unique crimes that happened right after you took down the D.F.A. gang. Nothing to indicate that they're related on the surface, but upon closer inspection, a pattern emerges. That's part of why I'm attending that snake's party; he's actually having it at LexCorp this year, and I need to gain access to his computers." Then a thought crossed his mind. "Say, Clark; you'll be there too. Any chance of a Sluggers reunion?"

"Teaming up?" Clark grinned at this. "Chance is a hundred percent. Too bad Lana and Pete aren't here."

Bruce shrugged. "Lois is here. No Pete analog, but I think three is a magic number for this one. How are Pete and Lana doing, by the way?"

"Engaged," Clark replied with a smile. "They intend to invite you, by the way."

"And it will be my honor to attend." Bruce clasped Clark's shoulders, smiling. "Damn good to see you again, Clark. And by all means, feel free to drop by. Alfred's always here, so even if I'm out, there's a hot cup of coffee or cold beer for you. Besides, he was a commando in the British Army back in his youth; he's got some stories to tell, and I know you well enough to know you'll enjoy them."

"I'll do that, Bruce," Clark assured. "And my humble abode on Clinton Street is always open to you, my friend. Anytime you need to drop in, feel free. I need to fly; four alarm fire in the Simon Project."

Bruce was amazed. "You can hear that?"

"Of course not," Clark said as though it were obvious. "Soundwaves won't penetrate this far underground; my hearing can pick up the police band; that travels a lot further."

Clark exited the cave so swiftly that to Bruce, he simply vanished. No sonic boom, this time, but the air displacement caused Bruce to lurch forward. The Batman chided himself for staring off into the blackness of the cave. It was time to suit up and go to work.

* * *

Superman had the fire out before the fire department even arrived, even with having to fly back from Gotham. He had gotten everyone out of the building, and the only casualties were those killed in the initial blast. It seemed that a gas leak had been the culprit, but his reporter's instincts were telling him that there was more to it than this. Bruce's comment about patterns stuck in Clark's mind. Being an investigative reporter, Clark too looked for patterns, but Bruce had it at the forefront of his mind. The fire department was still en-route, but he noticed that the reason was not laziness on their part, but the remaining at solid red of nearly every traffic light between the firehouse and the fire, as well as a number of lights that had remained green in all directions, causing accidents in strategic locations.

He looked further, and found that even if the fire department were there now, they would have no water in the hydrant, as it had been shut off further up the line. This was intentional, and far beyond what an arsonist would have the ability to pull off. Manipulation of the traffic grid, the water, and more than likely, setting off the explosion, all pointed to powerful player further up the food chain. But why? What was so special about blowing up a building in Suicide Slum? As Superman tended to the victims of the fire, he heard the sirens get closer, and saw the first firetruck break through. Had it not been for his presence, these people would all have died. That was when it hit him; the focus was not the building, but Superman himself. This was a distraction.

Clark used his senses to tap into the police band again, and found that S.T.A.R. Labs had just been hit. It seemed that a coordinated attack had been executed at the research facility, and something on the fifth floor had been taken. The robbers had been more like a military assault team than cat burglars. Clearly, Superman was meant to be here, in Suicide Slum, far away from the robbery of the lab. Clark had always made sure to be fully present in whatever task he was involved in when acting as Superman. With his level of power, he could afford no distractions. But his laser focus on the task at hand had cost him a look at the bigger picture. Fast as he was, he was too late to do anything about it. But Clark Kent could be on the case before any other reporter.

"Thanks for the assist, Superman," one of the firemen called. "If you hadn't been here …"

"Glad to be of service," Clark replied before flying off.

* * *

Lois looked at the cover of the People magazine. Bruce Wayne's handsome visage adorned it. Bruce Wayne: a smiling billionaire, and the most eligible bachelor in the nation—apart from Superman, that is. But then, was Superman a bachelor? True, he wore no ring, but he was a hero—no, a _super_ -hero! He would be unlikely to wear anything that might give away his personal life.

She sat in her Jeep Grand Cherokee, having just interviewed the firemen and residents of the Simon Project, often called Suicide Slum, after Superman had put out the fire. The quotes were great, though the Man of Steel was long gone by the time Lois was on the scene; not difficult for a man who could fly. As she fantasized for a moment about being "forced" to choose between Bruce and Superman, she was startled by a knock at the window of her Jeep.

"Lane," said a female voice. "A word?"

Lois lowered the window, finding herself looking across her car door at a tall, blonde woman in professional attire and very red lipstick.

"What can I do for you?"

"Mayson Drake, A.D.A," the woman said by way of introduction. "Looks like this is arson, apparently confirmed by your 'super' man." Drake made quotation marks with her fingers when she said, "super."

"That's the word," Lois replied.

"Yeah, nice of him to stick around," Drake said sarcastically, a sneer on her lips.

Lois pushed the door open, narrowly missing the assistant district attorney. "You know, Superman isn't here to grant interviews, Ms. Drake." Lois was pointing, her index finger mere inches from Drake's face. "Superman saves lives. He gets out there, and he does his part, and he does it for free, which is more than I can say about you!"

Drake rolled her eyes. "Keep drinkin' that Kool Aid, Lane. You see your flying do-gooder, tell him I want to see him."

"Oh, you bet I will, Drake. You bet I will!"

* * *

Clark Kent was on the scene at S.T.A.R. Labs, though the police and S.T.A.R. security were reluctant to let him into the premises, which would have been alright, except that they refused to answer any questions. He gazed up at the building, and opened up his hearing, and quickly discerned that whatever had happened, the fifth level had been the focal point.

"Hey, handsome," a woman's voice said, startling him from his surreptitious search.

"Excuse me?"

"Clark Kent," she half said, half asked. "Daily Planet?"

"Why, yes, Ma'am." He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, a gesture that prompted her to giggle.

"Doctor Faulkner, S.T.A.R. Labs," she said, extending her hand. "But you can call me Kitty."

Clark shook her hand, flashing her a smile. "Yes; Lois has been chronicling your efforts to develop clean energy. I've read up on your work; I find it fascinating."

Kitty giggled again. "Well ain't you just a ray of sunshine and encouragement. But I'm pretty sure you're here about the break in."

Clark nodded.

Kitty smiled and took his arm. "Well come on, handsome; let's get those reporter's instincts on the case." Then she slapped his arm. "Wow! You've got some serious muscle underneath that mild mannered façade, Mister Kent."

Kitty was flirting with him, and he could not say he did not like it. She was a slender petite woman with a slight southern accent, long, auburn hair parted just right of center, and rimless elliptical glasses perched on a cute face. She even wore a white lab coat. Given that Lois had shown what amounted to disinterest in him, he decided to simply enjoy the flirtation without any guilt.

"I do my best to stay fit," he replied as she walked him into the building. "Played football in high school; all state. Didn't pursue it in college, but the working out just stayed with me."

She nodded approvingly as she walked him to the front desk. "Guest-pass for Mister Kent," Kitty said to the older, somewhat portly lady behind the desk.

"Normally, I'd ask for I.D., Mister Kent," the woman, whose nametag read M. Hendricks, said, "but Kitty's word is good enough for me. I read you in the planet. Welcome to S.T.A.R., Mister Kent."

Clark read her driver's license through her purse with his x-ray vision, and said, "Thank you, Marcia. I hope my writing passes muster with you; I'm still a bit of a rookie."

Marcia never questioned Clark's use of her given name, even though only her first initial was visible on her badge. Instead, she grinned back at him. "More than passes, Clark. I like Lois Lane, especially her political stories, but you show up in town, and right away, you focus on the little people, and on issues that hit close to home. I live over in the Simon Project; you're the only reporter whose ever set foot in my neck of the woods. Keep up the good work, son."

"That means a lot, Marcia," Clark replied as she handed him his badge. "I appreciate the feedback."

"Anytime, Clark. Anytime."

"Bye, Marcia," Kitty said, leading Clark away. "See you soon."

"You take your time with that man, Kitty, you hear?" Marcia shot Clark a wink. "Treat him like one of the family."

They stepped into the elevator, and Kitty began giggling. "She's a true-blue fan, Mister Kent. After that article you did last week about the real costs of gentrification, she's been singing your praises. I knew she'd let you in without a hitch."

The doors opened as the elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and the scene was utter chaos.

"As you can see," Kitty said softly, "a lot of damage was done, and at least ten people were killed."

Clark stepped out into the hallway, and saw security personnel and police all over, and expected the F.B.I. would be along anytime. Thankfully, the officer in charge was Maggie Sawyer.

"Kent," Sawyer called. "Looks like your D.F.A. Gang struck again."

"They're back?" He was not shocked, but a bit surprised that they would be at it so soon.

"Not officially," Maggie said, leading him into the lab that had been burglarized. "But security footage shows similar hardsuits and weaponry, only more advanced. I hear Superman was busy putting out a fire over in the slums, and that all manner of shenanigans went into keeping emergency services away, and keeping Superman occupied while this robbery was happening."

The lab looked like it had been hit by Magneto, and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Except they were just comic book characters, and this was real life. Also, there was a buzzing in his head, disorienting his super-senses, and giving him a headache. He remembered Lori at the museum saying that the rock emitted a high-band radiation, and wondered if it was something that he was sensitive to. If so, it might be easier to find.

"So the two are connected," Clark observed, ignoring the discomfort. "What was taken? Assuming you can tell me."

"That's just it," Kitty remarked. "It was just a piece of a rock the museum sent us; a piece cut from a meteorite some Kansas farmer donated."

"Wayne Irig," Clark noted. "He's a family friend."

"Not only did they take the rock," Kitty added, "but they took all the research we had on it. This wasn't exactly a big secret, but it wasn't publicized either. This was no accident, but I have no idea what they'd want with it—or why so many had to die."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Clark said absently. "I'll see what I can turn up through the grapevine, Kitty. Captain Sawyer, anything I find, you'll be the first to know."

"You still have my card?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Clark replied.

"Good," Maggie said. "Keep in touch."

It seemed that this rock had some significance beyond just being a meteorite, significance enough that someone was willing to divert Superman, and kill to get it. Bruce was convinced that Lex Luthor was somehow involved, and Clark's gut told him that the Batman was correct. He only hoped that they could get to the bottom of it before anyone else had to suffer.

* * *

"Kent," Perry exclaimed. "This is good work—damn good work, son. Don't know how you got on the scene before everyone else—even Lois is fuming about that one."

"Lois? I hope she's not too upset. I didn't mean to step on her toes …"

"Don't be sorry, Clark," Perry admonished. "She needs some healthy competition, and I'd rather see it come from within the Planet than from a competitor. Keep it up, and keep the pressure on—and get that story on my desk pronto; this goes on the front, top fold." With that, Perry returned to his office.

Clark returned to his desk and began typing away feverishly. He still used an IBM Selectric typewriter, rather than the computer at his desk. For some reason, the computer had a hard time picking up his keystrokes when he began typing at superhuman speed, while the electric typewriter could translate all of his keystrokes into type on the page, so long as he did not go _too_ fast. He applied his laser focus to the task at hand, determined to get this done as fast as he could so that he could get back out there as Superman.

The elevator door opened, and Lois' ears were filled with a loud buzzing sound. She looked into the newsroom, and noticed that everyone was looking in the direction of Clark Kent's desk. She marched herself in, double-time, and made her way to her protégé. The buzzing was Clark's typewriter. The man's fingers were a blur, and she was certain that if he were any faster, the typewriter would be unable to keep up. His speed was—inhuman. As she got to his desk, he whipped the page from the typewriter and turned around to face her.

"Good afternoon Lois," he said charmingly.

"Smallville; you have a computer, you know," Lois chided. "No need for white-out with that."

"No need for white-out with this either," Clark replied, patting the typewriter.

Lois crinkled her nose. "How's that, Smallville?"

He just shrugged. "Never needed it."

Lois wanted to be angry at him; she had used a bottle of the stuff on every story she wrote until the word processors and computers became standard issue at the Planet. Clark just spelled well and had perfect grammar. Had he not been so earnest, she would have been fuming at him, but he seemed oblivious as to why she might be upset.

"Let me guess," she quipped. "Spelling bee champ at the county fair?"

Clark's brow furrowed. "County fair? There's no spelling bee at the county fair; not in Smallville anyway. Is that new, or just a Metropolis tradition?"

Lois looked at his face, searching for some indicator as to whether he was pulling her leg, but could find none. Clark was next to impossible for her to read—except when she teased him. Then the big lug would blush and look at her with puppy-dog eyes. Before she could fire off an appropriate quip, however, Cat walked past.

"Pay Lois no mind, Clark," Cat assured. "This is the woman who handed Perry a story about the Tenth Street Rappist."

Lois' mouth dropped open, but no words came out. For some reason, Cat always seemed to get the canary in their little exchanges, and it looked like today was no exception. Then Clark spoke.

"Lois, I had no idea you covered the music scene."

She felt her face redden with anger, but when she turned to fire off a retort, he had an expression of admiration. Clearly, Cat's jibe had gone over his head.

"That's a rapper," Cat corrected. "Lois' story was about …" Cat shook her head, smiling and rolling her eyes. "Oh, never mind, Clark. I'll let _Lois_ explain." Cat glided away, a smug smile on her face, waving with her fingers, saying, "Ta, ta, Lois."

Lois went around Clark's desk to her own, deflating as she fell into the chair. Kent had scooped her on the S.T.A.R. Labs robbery, and Cat had just gotten her goat—again. She sighed loudly, protruding her lower lip, so that her hair blew upward.

"Clark, why does she always do that to me?"

Clark walked around, taking a seat on the corner of her desk. "Do what, Lois?"

"Make me go blank! It's like I'm back in middle school, and she's the popular girl," Lois fumed. "I'm a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, Clark. She's nothing but a gossip columnist. How does she _do_ that to me?"

Clark looked off into the distance for a moment, tilting his head one way, then the other, and then looked back at her. "Perhaps her behavior triggers a regression to that time in your life, causing you to respond as though you were trying to stand up to the popular girl in school." Then he turned, as if he had just thought of something important. "Lois, you're beautiful. I can't imagine you being anything _other_ than the popular girl in school."

Lois felt as though her heart were melting at the comment. "Oh, Clark. That's so sweet!" Then she frowned. "It's not true, though. I was the smart girl, not the popular girl. Besides, I was a military brat, so I never quite fit in with the clique."

Clark just shrugged. "Middle school and high school popularity is ephemeral, Lois. Besides, Some guys like the smart girl."

Ephemeral. Clark was such a farm-boy in her eyes, but when he used words like this so naturally, she saw him in a different light. His psychological assessment has also sounded like it came straight from the mouth of a mental health professional, not a farm-hand turned journalist. She gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. There was something about them that she could not put her finger on. She flashed him a smile as she gazed, figuring she should throw him a bone for being so kind to her.

"You know, Clark, it's too bad you're not a socialite like Bruce Wayne; you'd give Cat fits."

Clark put his hands up, shaking his head. "No, no, no, Lois. That's not a life I'd want."

Lois raised an eyebrow at this. "What? You wouldn't want money and power? Clark, women would fall at your feet, and if you were rich like him, they'd be falling for a great guy!"

Clark nodded, but the came back with, "But if I were rich like him, I wouldn't be the man I am. I might not _be_ such a great guy."

"So, are you saying Bruce Wayne isn't a great guy?"

"Of course not, Lois. Money and power don't make you bad; I only meant that my upbringing would have been different in a thousand ways. My parents would have been very different people, and I would be a very different man. What kind of man I might be, who's to say? As for Bruce, I can tell you firsthand that he's a good man."

"Oh?" Now this got Lois' attention. Clark had turned in no stories about Bruce Wayne. "Do tell."

Clark just shrugged again. "He's one of my oldest friends."

Lois' mouth dropped open, and she gasped out a high pitched, "Ah!" She could not believe it. He had to be pulling her leg. "Clark, you do _not_ know Bruce Wayne! _Tell_ me you don't actually _know_ Bruce Wayne!"

"I've known him since we were kids, Lois. His father had business interests in Smallville. We met when the Wayne's Rolls overheated and Pa and I repaired the radiator hose for them. The Waynes were in town for a couple of weeks, and Bruce and the rest of us rode bikes and played baseball." Then his face became somber. "Lois, you know about Bruce Wayne—don't you?"

She shook her head. "Not a gossip columnist, Clark. That's Cat's department."

"His folks were killed the following month; gunned down right in front of him after they went to a movie."

Lois felt her mouth drop open again. "Oh, Clark …"

"We went to the funeral," Clark continued. "Bruce and I remained in contact until after we both graduated college. We dropped out of touch after that; I was traveling, and he went to live in Japan. I did see him recently, though, and it was like we'd just seen each other yesterday."

Lois could hardly imagine Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne as friends. But with him coming to town for the gala, this was her in.

"Clark, you've gotta introduce us!"

"Lois …?"

"Clark, I need a date for the gala," she explained, as though it were obvious.

"I thought you and I were going …"

She sat back and gave him a recriminating look. "Clark; we're coworkers and friends, not a couple." She saw the hurt look in his eyes, and thought he might just walk away, so she had to pour it on fast. "Please, please, please, Clark!" Then she grabbed his arm and looked up at him, giving as earnest and desperate a look as she could. "Please?"

Clark let out a deep sigh. "If you weren't such a great gal, I wouldn't even think about it …"

"Thank you, thank you thank you," she squealed. She jumped up and pecked his cheek. "You're the best friend a girl could have, Clark!"

Clark rolled his eyes. "I'll do what I can, Lois."

 _That'll teach Cat,_ Lois thought. _Then I'll be the one catching the canary!_ She quickly added, "Oh, and Clark, Mayson Drake, an assistant D.A. wants to talk to Superman about the fire he put out at Suicide Slum this afternoon. If you see him …"

When he did not answer, she looked up to repeat herself, but he was gone. Not just back at his desk, but gone. She wondered if his feelings were hurt for a moment, and then forgot about it, pulling out the People Magazine, gazing again at Bruce Wayne. She sighed. Only Superman was more magnificent.


	5. Chapter 5

**Convergence**

Her plane had landed at Metropolis-Gotham International Airport, and a limousine had taken the tall, dark haired woman to her hotel. As she stepped out of the car, she heard a sonic boom overhead. Looking up, the tall woman saw him: Superman. Most would have heard, but not seen, however Diana's senses were much keener than those of any mortal. Given his powers, she imagined that Superman's senses were similarly attuned to her own, possibly even further enhanced.

"So the stories are true," she said aloud. "He really does exist."

"That's right, Ma'am," a passerby said.

Diana turned to see a man shorter than herself, maybe a hundred and seventy-five, hundred and eighty centimeters tall ( _Probably five-eight, the way these Americans measure it_ , she thought) looked off in the direction Superman had flown. A stout, matronly woman, and two little girls walked with him. The girls both wore blue T-shirts bearing the image of Superman's shield. One girl wore a red skirt with hers.

"He's been such a blessing to this city," the man's wife said.

"Yeah," the man added. "He saved our train! A tunnel collapsed ahead of it. There was no way we could have stopped in time, but Superman—he's more powerful than a locomotive!"

Not many people called trains locomotive anymore, but Diana knew exactly what he meant. Trains weighed thousands of tons, and large ones required over a mile to come to a halt. The image of this spandex clad, cape adorned man stopping something so massive, his muscles flexing as he strained against it, came to her mind, and made her think of Heracles. No, she thought. _Superman is much stronger than him_. And if the stories were true, he was much kinder than Heracles.

"Maybe you'll get to meet him," one of the girls said excitedly.

"Oh, I intend to," Diana replied. "I intend to."

* * *

Clark had blown out of the office the day before, and Lois had not seen him since. She wondered again if maybe she had hurt his feelings, but the elevator door opened, and Clark stepped out. Then her mouth dropped open, for with Clark was none other than Bruce Wayne. Clark looked over at her and grinned.

"You asked, and I have delivered."

Lois sprang from her seat, running to meet Bruce before Cat could get to him. Bruce was even more gorgeous in person than on the cover of People. Lois was surprised to see that Clark was slightly taller than the tall, lithe, Bruce Wayne, and noticeably bulkier. It was then that she realized that Clark slouched quite a bit. Were he standing straight and tall, Kent would be a solid two or three inches taller than Bruce, rather than just the half inch that he presently was.

"Bruce Wayne!" She circled her arm around his, and began walking him toward her desk. "I didn't believe Clark when he said he knew you, but …"

"But here I am, Lois," Bruce replied with a smile. When they reached her desk, he held the chair for her. Then he took her hand and gently kissed it. "And his descriptions of your lovely countenance were indeed accurate."

Lois blushed and looked over at her partner. "Clark," she admonished with a smile.

Bruce leaned down, whispering in her ear, "I think he's sweet on you, Miss Lane; be nice."

"Thank you, Clark," Lois said, as Clark wandered over to the coffee pot. She watched the mild-mannered Clark walk away, and for some reason, could not help but notice that his back was even broader than his chest and shoulders. _He must be seriously strong_ , she thought. Then she turned her attention back to Clark's billionaire friend. "So, Bruce, did Clark tell you why I wanted to meet you?"

"I've always admired your work, Miss Lane …"

"Please," she interjected, "call me Lois."

"Lois," Bruce said. "I've always admired your work, though I did not wish to be interviewed. But when Clark said you would be thrilled to have me escort you to a gala which I'm already set to attend, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get to know you."

This was even better than she had thought. She would owe Clark for this one big time. "Well—I was thinking the same thing."

"Clark and I have plans this afternoon, so I can't stay, but—you know, I'd love to take you out to dinner this evening, Lois. We could talk more."

"Oh, Bruce …"

"I'll send a car by at six?"

"Send a car?" Lois raised an eyebrow at this.

"My driver," Bruce explained. "He'll be driving a Corniche."

She was not into cars, but she knew Corniche meant Rolls Royce. "I'll be waiting," she said with a low husky voice.

Bruce took her hand and kissed it again. "Until then, Miss Lane."

As Bruce and Clark headed to the elevator, Lois' phone rang.

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she said, answering the phone.

" _Lois, it's Lucy_."

Disaster. Her sister almost never called unless she was going through some personal drama. Lois hoped this was an exception. "What's up?"

" _I need to crash at your place for a few days; we got some kind of emergency fumigation notice, and all the residents need to get a motel for a week. They said we'd be reimbursed, but I can't afford one; not on such short notice, so I need to stay with you_."

Considering the personal disasters that Lucy had visited upon herself in the past, frequently involving Lois in some way, this was pretty mild, almost mundane, in fact. "You can crash on the couch, Lucy. Pack light."

" _Thank you, Lois! You're the best!_ "

Lois hung up the phone, and Lois Lane being Lois Lane, began digging for information on the man who had just asked her out. Clark had only just reunited with his old friend. Given that is had been years since the two had any contact, she doubted that Smallville knew any more about the current Bruce Wayne than she did. She started with readily available articles, truly amazed at how quickly the brand new Internet search engine, Yahoo, was able to have them for her. Then she began reading.

The articles described him as a "billionaire playboy." There was plenty of information about the slaying of his parents by Joe Chill, and she had winced as she read about it. Wayne had disappeared from public view for years, living in a dojo in the mountains of Japan, supposedly, and then suddenly reappeared just last year, and won a battle for control of Waynetech. Since retaking the helm of his father's company, stocks had soared, and the company went from a struggling tech firm on the verge of bankruptcy to being a leading defense contractor. Clearly, Wayne knew what he was doing. He had also given generously to charity, and his philanthropy in Gotham was prolific.

"He's fascinating," Lois thought. Even though Bruce had asked not to be interviewed, she reflexively put together a list of questions to ask him in her mind. Tonight, she would try to draw out the real Bruce Wayne, the man behind the image.

* * *

Clark took Bruce to his favorite café, a place that was, ironically, called the "Super Café." It predated Superman's appearance, but had picked up considerable business after the arrival of the Man of Steel, with Superman even walking in after putting out a fire down the block. After that, the owner had the café's sign colors changed to red letters on a blue field, with a comic book style font. Little did the owner know that both Batman and Superman were seated at a window table, enjoying a cup of coffee.

"Clark," Bruce opened. "You don't really need those glasses, do you?"

"No," Clark confirmed. "This is my disguise."

"Thought so," Bruce said. "And a very clever one, at that. Now that you've confirmed that you don't need glasses, I have something for you." Bruce slid a small glasses case across the table to him. Clark picked it up and opened it.

"Designer glasses?"

"Nothing so ostentatious," Bruce said. "They're the same style as the ones you wear, but the similarities end there. Go ahead and put them on."

Clark did as he was bidden, and found them to be much like his own glasses. Microscopic vision, however, revealed that they were packed with circuitry, and the lenses were actually two panes, with some kind of clear display sandwiched in between. A small button on the side of the frames, looking like an accent for the hinge, activated the lenses at the touch of Clark's fingertip. Instantaneously, he had a full computer readout, with icons for everything from the burgeoning internet, to case files, to dossiers on criminals, politicians, city and state officials, and business magnates.

"Impressive, Bruce," Clark exclaimed. "But all that information—it can't be self-contained."

Bruce smiled. "My cowl has the same setup. It links me to the Bat-Computer …"

Clark raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Bat-Computer? Really?"

Bruce laughed. "Corny, I know, but come on, Clark; you and I both watched those old Bond movies and Spiderman cartoons. We're real-life comic book characters—if you can't have some fun with it, what's the point?"

Clark laughed. "Agreed, but are you saying that these glasses give me access to your personal computer?"

"In your case, I'd be willing to share, but no," Bruce explained. "I have something of a project. Still in the works, but it involves a super-computer, which is what these glasses are linked to. Everything on it at present is from the Bat-Computer, but I've given you administrator rights, so you can add files of your own, or add pertinent data to existing files. There's a big one I've compiled on Luthor; I was going to include things you've told me, but I thought I'd let you add your own personal touch to that one."

Clark folded his old glasses, and pocketed them, keeping the new ones on instead. "Sounds ambitious, Bruce. I like it."

"That brings me to the gala, Clark. I'm going to need your help. The glasses also have a communications array so we can remain in contact. I'll need your super-senses to keep me apprised of the movements of LexCorp security in relation to my own."

"Planning to do some sleuthing, I take it."

Bruce grinned. "Absolutely. Keep Luthor occupied too. Hit him with hard questions; that should score some brownie points with Lois. Oh, and I know it's part of your disguise, but when we're there, I need you to be Superman."

Clark raised an eyebrow at this. "Bruce, I'm there as a reporter, not as Superman."

Bruce shook his head. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Don't show up in a cape and tights; show up as Clark Kent, but you'll need to set aside the mild-mannered persona, and walk and talk like Superman. Act like you own the place, and wield your reporter's chops like you do your super powers."

Clark was not so sure. "You really think that's a good idea?"

"Absolutely," Bruce reiterated. "Journalism is in decline. You and Lois both see that. You need to be everything Superman is as a reporter. Around the office? Slouch and do whatever you need to do to throw your coworkers off the trail. But when you're on the job, don't hold back. Especially at the gala." Bruce then winked. "That's part of my plan."

"I've already got a list of pointed questions for Luthor," Clark informed. "Lois does too. We've compared our questions, so we won't duplicate each other, unless he gives a vague or evasive answer to one of us; then the other will hammer him with the same question worded differently."

"Then our course is set, Clark." Bruce drained his coffee and stood. "Let's get to work."

Clark stood and shook Bruce's hand. "On it."

* * *

Lois arrived home for the evening, anticipating her date with Bruce Wayne. When she arrived at her apartment building, she saw the Corniche parked out front. _He's here over thirty minutes early! Points off! Never show up early for a date!_ Lois dashed up the steps, bounded through the front door of the building, and up the next set of stairs. Rounding the corner and dashing down the hall, she arrived at her door, breathlessly fumbling for the key. After finding it, dropping it, and retrieving it, shouting, "Oh, fudge," she got the key into the door, only to find that it was unlocked.

The door opened to the scene of Bruce and Lucy sitting on the sofa. It seemed that Lucy had made him some tea, and the two were making small talk. As soon as Lois entered, Bruce stood, and from seemingly nowhere, whisked out a bouquet of roses.

"Sorry to arrive so early," Bruce opened. "A peace offering."

Lois' eyes went wide at the sight of the roses. "Oh, you shouldn't have! They're beautiful!" She hugged him, and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Bruce! Yes, that is a more than acceptable peace offering. What possessed you to come so early though?"

"Still on Japan time," he offered. "I just flew in from Tokyo last night; had an emergency meeting."

"Early because jet-setting; got it," Lois said as she took the flower to the kitchen, and located a pitcher to fill with water. it occurred to her that Japan was actually ahead of East Coast time by thirteen hours, so Japan time should have put him showing up in the wee hours of tomorrow morning. Once the flowers were in the pitcher, and appropriately adjusted, Lois smile, and rejoined Lucy and Bruce. "Now, someone still needs to get ready for a night out with Bruce Wayne, so if you don't mind …"

"Take your time, Lois," Bruce said. "I was discussing futures with Lucy."

Lois froze, her mouth dropping open. "You … Lucy … uh … futures?"

"Yes," Bruce said without missing a beat. "Lucy was asking about them, and since I've done quite well in the futures market, I'm a natural to answer her questions."

Lois exhaled, laughing slightly. "Oh, _futures_! I get it, now."

"Well, yes," Bruce said. "What did you think I meant?"

Lois could think of nothing to say that would make this line of conversation go away, so she just let out a slight giggle, smiled, and retreated to her bedroom as fast as she could. This night was not going at all as she had expected. Not a good omen, she thought, resigning herself to a possible train wreck of an evening.

* * *

Mayson Drake was at her desk going over case files for an upcoming trial, when she heard a loud thunderclap. She looked out the window, but it was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Moments later, her secretary, Ginny Holt, came rushing into the office.

"Ms. Drake," the woman said breathlessly, "he's here!"

"Who's here, Ginny?"

The door opened, and nearly filling it, was Superman. The Man of Steel was tall, commanding, and though she hated to admit it, handsome. She gulped as he strode into her office, saying, "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny giggled, and exited the room, leaving Mayson alone with a man whose pinky finger could shatter an iceberg, and whose very gaze could cut through the hardest of steel. His blue eyes were like sapphires of the deepest blue, and his prominent jaw looked like it was forged of solid steel. The rest of him seemed carved from the Rock of Gibraltar. She focused on his outfit—that ridiculous outfit that he wore. Lycra-spandex, trunks from a circus performer, and a cape. It was the only way she could maintain her composure. Physically and visually, Superman was definitely her type, and he pushed all her buttons. But at the same time, he terrified her.

"I understand you wanted to see me, Ms. Drake. I came as soon as I could."

She nodded. His voice; it was a rich, baritone, closer to tenor than base—smooth as silk, but with an edge as hard as steel.

"Superman, you left the scene before anyone could record your statement." Her own voice sounded husky and almost gravelly by comparison.

"I don't generally remain to make a statement," he replied. "The first responders had arrived, and I had done all I could."

"Yes, but you needed to remain to give a statement. That's how things are done, at least by law abiding citizens."

"My apologies, Ms. Drake. Would you like me to give you a statement?"

She slid him a form. "Can you record it …?"

Before she had finished her sentence, Superman took the form and wrote at a furious speed momentarily, and then handed her back the form. "Here you are, Ms. Drake. Sorry to make you wait." It was long, detailed, and quite legible. And he wrote it in less than a second.

"Next time, see to it that you don't fly off before giving one."

Superman nodded. "Of course, Ms. Drake." Then he turned to leave, but she was not going to let him just blow her off.

"I'm serious, Superman!"

"So am I, Ms. Drake. Now …"

Her police band radio sounded, interrupting Superman, and announcing a robbery in progress, and an officer down.

"I've got it," was all he said before dashing from the room.

Mayson tried to follow him, tried to catch him to tell him that he could not just insert himself into police business, but there was no catching a man who could break the speed of sound. Superman did not fly at top speed indoors, but as soon as he was out the front door, he took off, the pop of a sonic boom the only thing to indicate that he had even been there.

* * *

Diana watched as Superman took direct hits from three machine gun wielding men. She was fast enough to deflect the bullets with her bracelets, and the Man of Steel undoubtedly was as well. But instead, he just interposed himself, and took them. The men had grenade launchers attached to their weapons, and fired at Superman, only to have the grenades explode harmlessly on his invulnerable body. In an instant, he had the guns away from them, bending the steel of the weapons in his bare hands, and had the three gunmen detained.

Then it was the downed officer; Superman was instantly at his side, trying to stabilize the man. Thankfully, first responders arrived, and Superman directed the paramedics, telling them exactly where the bullet was, and what internal damage the man had suffered. Clearly, the stories were true. Diana had been about to intercede herself, but she never had the chance; Superman had come down from the heavens with the speed of Hermes, and the swiftness of Athena herself. Once the injured officer was taken away, Superman gave a brief statement, and then flew away.

Diana, unlike mortals, could follow him. He did not ascend to the heavens, as she had thought he might. Instead, he flew up, and then down into an alleyway behind a nearby building, and then came running out, wearing a double breasted gray suit, a fedora, and a pair of glasses. _Great Hera_ , she thought. _He's the newspaper reporter! Clark Kent is Superman!_

* * *

Clark had taken photographs, interviewed the principles, and covered the story. He started to walk away, when a tall woman, nearly six feet, called out to him.

"Mister Kent; a moment of your time, please."

Her accent sounded Greek—but not quite. And she looked Greek—but not quite. She was beautiful, achingly so, with cascading locks of long black hair, and her eyes limpid pools of rich azure. With her prodigious height came long, shapely legs, accentuated by the dress she wore, which came down to just above her knees. Her arms and shoulders were covered by a bolero jacket, but the low cut black dress showed off plenty of her chest. It was not her ample bosom that caught his attention, however, but her muscular upper chest. Her legs, while attractive, were likewise well tones and muscular.

"How may I help you, Ma'am?"

"My name is Diana Prince, and I need to discuss a matter of vital importance with you, and only you, Mister Kent."

"I assume you don't want to discuss this here in the middle of the street," Clark predicted.

"You assume correctly, Mister Kent. I will meet you at a time and place of my choosing."

"Which would be …?"

Diana simply smiled. "You'll know when I arrive at the chosen place and time." She turned and walked toward a red 550 Barchetta. Brand new that year, and quite expensive, he noted mentally. She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. "I look forward to meeting you again … Clark."

She was clearly flirting with that last gesture; it was one Lois liked to use. Even the way Diana said, "Clark," was the way Lois would say it. He was flattered, but for whatever reason, Diana's flirt did not undo him the way Lois's did. More puzzling was her cryptic words about meeting him at a time and place of her choosing. If she was simply going to show up somewhere unannounced, why not just show up without the guessing game?

"I guess I'll find out when I find out," he said aloud.

* * *

The big Corniche stopped in front of Comte de Rochambeau, the finest restaurant in Metropolis. Bruce's butler, Alfred, opened the door, and Lois could hear the gasps of onlooker as Bruce Wayne stepped out of the car. He then offered Lois a hand, helping her to alight from the big car.

"Our destination, Milady," Bruce said.

"Bruce, a dinner here costs …"

"I never look at the right side of the menu," Bruce replied. "I have more than enough to buy this restaurant."

Lois smiled, and took the arm he offered. "Well in that case, lead on, good sir."

And Bruce did just that, leading her into the restaurant, where they were promptly seated. The subdued atmosphere and candles at the table only added to Wayne's ambiance, and it was easy for her to see why he was awarded the title of sexiest man alive by People Magazine. Bruce ordered an expensive champagne, and after taking a drink of it, her eyes widened.

"I can't believe this is champagne!"

Bruce looked surprised. "Why not?"

She became self-conscious, and looked down. "Because it doesn't taste like Korbel?" She looked back up, smiling faintly, hoping that she hadn't said something stupid.

"Korbel isn't actually champagne," Bruce said absently. "It's sparkling wine from California."

"Oh," Lois replied. "What's this?"

"A 1981 Krug," Bruce informed. "You won't find it at the grocery store; a bottle of this costs more than Clark's mom spends on groceries in a week."

"So, how do you and Clark know each other?"

"Clark told you," Bruce said. "My father had business interests near his home, and the Kents helped us when we had car trouble. Clark and I became friends, and I had someone to play with while we were on the trip."

"He describes you as one of his oldest friends, Bruce. I mean, did you two become close?"

"As close as two friends can be who lived in different states before the advent of e-mail."

"Obviously, you two don't have a shared school experience …"

"Obviously," Bruce agreed. "Clark and I have a timeless friendship, Lois. It's not something that changes. We see each other, and it's like we've never been apart, but we're apart for years at a time. You have anyone like that in your life?"

"No," she confessed. "I dropped out of touch with my childhood friends while we were still in our childhood. My family moved a lot because my dad was Army."

"Oh, too bad," Bruce said. "Go Navy."

She blew him a raspberry as the first round of hors d'oeuvres arrived, and the waiter took their order. After that, they continued to make conversation, but Lois was never able to get below the surface with him. He was nice and he was charming, and he was breathtakingly beautiful, but from the moment she had come home, something about him did not seem right. This was an intimate setting, and it was just the two of them, but Bruce remained tight lipped, even about Clark, which seemed weird, because Lois already knew Clark, and already knew about Clark and Bruce's friendship. _Oh my God_ , she thought. _What if they're gay?_ She dismissed that thought; Clark clearly pined for her, and was the straightest arrow she thought she had ever seen.

Dinner arrived, and Lois decided it was time to go where she had previously not intended to go. Bruce had asked not to be interviewed, but since every piece of conversation went nowhere, all she had left was business. She leaned forward, resting her chin on the backs of her hands, trying to look as alluring as she could.

"So Bruce, why are you _really_ in Metropolis? I mean, I know you're not just here to see Clark."

"Why not? Gotham and Metropolis are only a bridge apart."

She sat up, adopting a more formal posture. "Yeah, Cat Grant might buy that, but I won't."

Bruce smiled, and chuckled. "Let's just say—I'm scouting out properties for a future business venture."

"Let me guess," she said somewhat churlishly, "Batman's been crimping your style?"

Bruce laughed, with what Lois thought was borderline derision. "Not at all, Lois. It's bigfoot."

"Bigfoot?!"

"Yes, Lois; Bigfoot. He's terrorizing my offices, he's all over the place, and no matter how many people see him, nobody can ever catch him."

"Bruce, there's no such thing as bigfoot!"

"Exactly," he replied, a smug grin on his face. "Now, take my last sentence, and switch out bigfoot for Batman. People have been reporting the Batman for a year and a half now, but the only people who ever see him are crooks who claim that the Batman magically appeared to disrupt their deals. There's no Batman, Lois. Never was. Just wishful thinking mixed with a bit of urban legend." Bruce took a bite of his fillet mignon, and then changed topics. "Now Lex Luthor; he's real."

"Yeah—and?"

"I follow your work, Lois. Clark's too. Lex Luthor is a parasite. He's like pancreatic cancer; it's there, but everything seems alright—until one day it isn't, and you get your diagnosis, but it's too late to do anything about it."

Lois sighed. "Not a pretty picture, is it?"

"And you can't get anything solid on him, but you just know he's dirty."

Lois nodded.

"I'm convinced he's behind some of the unpleasantness that plagues Gotham, Lois. Don't ask me how; at this point, it's little more than a gut feeling. But somehow …"

"Somehow, you know that slime-bag is the one," she finished for him.

"I just bought back the Gotham Times from Warner Communications, Lois. Gotham needs some hard hitting journalists; investigative reporters who know how to do detective work."

"Is that what this is about?" Lois was incensed. "I am not being lured away from the Planet by some …"

"Not at all, Lois," Bruce assured with a grin. "Metropolis needs you here, though if you _were_ looking to relocate, I certainly wouldn't turn you away. I have been fleecing the Star, however; they've got some good people that really hate the direction the new owner has taken."

"New owner?" Now this caught Lois's attention. "Who's the new owner?"

"The Star was quietly acquired by MetroTec Communications," Bruce explained. "I doubt you've heard of them."

"You're right, I haven't." Lois had regained her calm, but now, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn."

"They're a shell company, Lois. They were bidding on the Gotham Times too, but I out maneuvered them. I've got a lot of irons in the fire right now, Lois, so I was hoping you might be able to do me a favor: find the connection to LexCorp, or if find out if there even is a connection."

"You think Lex is …"

"Yes, I do. MetroTec has been buying newspapers and local radio and television affiliates all over Gotham and Metropolis, but they've been doing it quietly. Notice the sudden spike in pro-Luthor articles over the past year?"

Lois nodded. "Uh huh."

"Look at who owns the outlets that are running them. Typically, they infiltrate the board, and get enough people willing to approve the sale of the outlet, and then make an offer. Be careful, Lois; the Planet is on their hit-list."

Lois could not help but feel alarmed. Something big was happening, much bigger than she had previously thought. Bruce had an angle, and it was not just that of a businessman. She needed to talk this out with someone who would not withhold information from her, someone she could trust. Only one name came to mind: Clark Kent.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Secret Revealed!**

Friday Morning: the day of the gala.

Superman had saved twenty people from a building collapse, and Clark Kent had finished interviewing witnesses and making notes. He had even taken a chapter from the Spiderman comics (his personal favorite), and had set up a remote camera as he flew in. It was quite a coup for him, as he was able to be 'on the scene' as a reporter and as Superman virtually simultaneously. It turned out that the building was actually rigged to collapse, with explosive charges placed at strategic places, something he would make sure to indicate that "Superman" had told him before flying off. He wondered if this was yet another distraction, but his super hearing and telescopic vision were showing him nothing else going on.

He was already in the area to follow up on a story about gentrification in the Simon Project, and had taken his motorcycle; a brand new 1996 Harley Davidson Superglide, when he heard a call for help. A quick scan of the building with his X-Ray vision revealed another building was likewise rigged to come down. It seemed that this building was unoccupied, but there was a homeless family inside. Whoever had rigged the building had also chained the doors and barred the windows. He noticed that the bars were a recent addition, odd in an abandoned building.

Clark ran to the building, and shouted to the people outside, "Get back! Can't you hear the people inside shouting? It's coming down like that other one!"

With that, he made a quick and surreptitious use of his super strength to break the lock, and get inside. He found the family in the building's basement. They were not just trapped inside, either; they had been tied to a pole, and gagged, a mother and three children. The oldest child, a boy, had worked his gag loose, and was the one who had been calling out. It was pure happenstance that Clark was in the area, as nobody outside would have heard the boy shouting from the basement of the building.

"You gotta get us outta here," the boy began, but Clark was already on it.

"I heard your shouts," Clark said as he snapped the ropes and gathered the family. "Come on! Only seconds left!"

Clark was large enough, and as a former football player, nobody questioned why a mild-mannered reporter was stronger than the average Joe. Carrying the four of them at one time, two in each arm, Clark poured on a burst of speed, and blew through the front door just as the explosives went off. The blast allowed him to 'fly' them away from the building, seemingly blown forward by the explosion, to a safe distance.

"Wow," the boy exclaimed. "You landed perfectly!"

The mother, looked at him, and her eyes went wide. "You—you're that reporter from the Planet, Clark Kent!"

"I am," he confirmed.

She hugged him. "You saved my babies, Mister Kent! You almost died in there!"

In truth, he could have arranged the explosives into a beanbag chair and reclined on them as they blew, and it would not have scratched him, but it was nice for Clark Kent to get some respect for a change. It was then that he noticed four men wearing coveralls leaving another dilapidated tenement, and he recognized the detonator that one of them was carrying. His X-Ray vision revealed that the building was unoccupied, but laced with explosives.

"Those are the men who tied us up," the mother shouted.

"You! That's a detonator," Clark shouted. " _You're_ the ones blowing these buildings!"

They ran for their van, but Clark was on them. They pulled guns, but Clark's speed and strength were too much for them. He disarmed them and knocked them out, expending almost no effort whatsoever. All looked on, astounded; quiet at first, but then they began applauding. Clark smiled sheepishly, unused to such a reaction when not in his tights, and returned to the family he had just rescued.

"Are you alright?"

The mother nodded. "Thank you, Mister Kent. We were in the building when they rigged it. Those men, they were the ones. They wanted no witnesses. Thought it would be 'funny' to tie a homeless family up to die in the building. Said it would help fight the infestation."

"Why are you homeless?"

"I was a cleaning lady," the mother explained. "I worked for a local warehouse, but they went out of business, and I haven't been able to find work. Then we were driven out of the building we lived in when they started their 'gentrifying' efforts. It's hard to get a job when you're homeless, Mister Kent."

"What's your name, Ma'am?"

"Makayla," she said. "Makayla Morris. Why?"

"I happen to know for a fact that one of the ladies on the Planet's custodial staff is retiring next month. I'd be happy to put in a good word for you, maybe set up an interview."

"You'd do that for us?"

"Why not?" Clark asked. "Someone did it for me. Besides, we all need help from time to time. May as well help each other, don't you think?"

Makayla hugged him tightly. "You're a lifesaver, Mister Kent! Even more than Superman!"

 _Little does she know_ , he thought.

The Daily Planet's star rookie was soon speaking to the police about what he had seen, between the first building that 'Superman' had cleared, the one that 'Clark' had cleared, and the reporter's tackling of the third. Thankfully, the explosives in the third building were not detonated, thanks to Clark Kent's intervention, and the bomb squad was soon on hand. It was Maggie Sawyer who arrived for this one. After she had taken a statement from him, she lit up a cigarette, and laughed.

"This is weird, Kent; usually, it's Superman I'm interviewing after these disasters, not you."

"Well, Superman was here," he noted. "I just happened to be here covering another story about the evil of gentrification. It seems that that story, and this story, intersected. But what about you? You're the S.C.U.; isn't this a bit outside of your purview?"

"Normally, but with Superman on the scene, they asked me investigate; seems they get jumpy whenever Big Blue does anything, which seems to be more and more."

"Jumpy?"

"Come on, Kent; he's bulletproof, tank-proof, missile-proof, and can rip a cruiser in two as easily as I can tear a paper in two. No cop can arrest him, no prison can hold him; he breaks bad, it's all over."

"Surely, you don't think he'd …"

"Of course not," Maggie exclaimed. "I don't buy into that bullshit; I've met him and talked to him enough to know he's on the level. Frankly, I'm glad he's here. D.F.A. was causing trouble before he was even on the scene; they're the reason my unit exists, and without him, nobody could take them down. He's kind of our unofficial partner now, but he still scares quite a few people. That A.D.A., Mayson Drake? She's terrified of him. And she's not alone." Sawyer took a drag on her cigarette, and then added, "Speaking of whom, you might want to pay her a visit; this is her turf, and you're a witness. She's going to want you to testify."

"I think I'll do that, Captain Sawyer."

"Please," she protested. "It's Maggie to you. I think you've earned it."

* * *

Clark wrapped up with Maggie, and again tried to get back to his motorcycle. He had purchased it because it was easy to park, and he needed a larger bike to support his powerful frame. He also felt that he needed something in the event he had to carry a passenger; up to now, Clark had not bothered with a vehicle at all, but he realized that vehicle maintenance could be a powerful tool in his arsenal; need to be away suddenly? ' _Oh, gee, I need to go pick up my bike from the shop_.' It also forced him to exist within the same parameters that regular people did, dealing with traffic, and such. It was important for him to keep his connection to humanity strong, lest he come to view himself as somehow superior to them.

This time, he made it to his bike without any interruptions, but his bike was no longer unattended. Diana Prince, the woman from the previous day, was seated on the passenger pillion. Instead of a dress, today she wore form-fitted leather pants, what appeared to be a strapless top of some kind, with a golden decoration along the upper edge, accentuating the curve of her breasts. Over this, she wore a black leather jacket. At her hip was a coil of golden rope.

"Give a girl a ride?" she asked.

"Where's that red barchetta?" Clark asked.

"It's Italian," she said somewhat tersely. "Where do you _think_ it is?"

He chuckled. "Can't argue with that. At least it's not British."

She laughed heartily at this, her mouth open, and her eyes closing slightly. It accentuated her beauty, showing off a smile that belonged on the cover of vogue. His vision was acute, and even without his microscopic vision, he could see that she wore not one ounce of makeup, not even lipstick.

"You make me laugh, Mister Kent," she said. "Now, this is the time and place of my choosing; now, and here, where I sit. Take me for a ride, a nice long one, so we can talk without interruption—or any eavesdropping."

"Yes, Ma'am."

As he started the bike, its loud bark filling the air, Diana leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, and pressing herself against his back. She leaned her head forward, her lips brushing his left ear. "This is for the benefit of onlookers," she whispered. "I know your heart belongs to her. However, I understand Miss Lane will be attending the Gala tonight with Bruce Wayne, leaving you to fly solo."

"You seem to know an awful lot about me, Ms. Prince," Clark said as he put the bike in gear, uncomfortable that she even knew about his unrequited feelings for Lois.

"I do my homework, as you Americans like to say," she replied. "If you were not Superman, we would not be having this conversation on the back of a motorcycle, now would we. Now, you need a date tonight, and I need to get inside. Get the bike moving, and we'll talk further." Before he could respond, she kissed his cheek.

* * *

"So, you failed me—again."

The four men who Clark Kent had caught had been sprung from jail within minutes, and now stood before their employer on the one-hundred and tenth floor of the LexCorp tower. Lex Luthor stood tall and menacing, a sinister tone to his gravelly bass voice. His baldness seemed only to add to his threat level. Though not as big as Stone-Cold or Goldberg, Luthor had that same menacing scowl that both of the wrestlers had.

Flanking him were Mercy Graves and a tall, slender man, decked out in a purple suit. He was white; not Caucasian, but literally white, like a sheet of paper. His hair was a bright green, and the look in his black rimmed eyes was terrifying. They could not decide if the malevolent looking Lex Luthor, or this obvious psychopath was the bigger threat. To the left of the green-haired man was a large laundry cart.

"It wasn't our fault," one of them offered. "Superman showed up …"

"But Superman didn't catch you," Luthor bellowed. "Clark Kent caught you! Which is worse! He's a reporter, and a damn good one at that! Lois Lane is already a thorn in my side, and she seems to have ingrained her tenacity and talent into her protégé."

"We'll take care of him, Mister Luthor," one of the other men said. "Give us one more chance!"

"Kent manhandled the four of you, and he was unarmed for God's sake! No, your usefulness to me has ended. Take care of them, Joker."

Luthor and Mercy left, leaving them alone in the room with the green-haired psycho. There were four of them, so they thought they could take the Joker, but the green-haired psycho had already faced a much tougher opponent: Batman. Compared to the Dark Knight, these four lackeys were merely toys to play with.

Producing a large pistol, he fired at the first one, a dart striking him in the center of the forehead, sending him to the floor. Instead of immediately dying, or even crying out, the Joker's victim convulsed, foaming at the mouth, and laughing wildly, until his back arched, and his body was petrified, on his face, a distorted, and inhumanly wide, grin. His skin had turned the same dead-white as the Joker's and his hair had turned green.

As the remaining three looked on in horror, Joker shot each of them. Once they were dead, he threw their bodies into the laundry cart, and wheeled it into the elevator. Though Luthor had no further use for them alive, they would perform one final service on behalf of the Luthor-Joker partnership. Luthor already _had_ a plan for Superman. These four would prove the lure that would draw the Batman into Metropolis. And then, the Joker would have his revenge.

* * *

Bruce kept a close eye on crime, both in Gotham, and in neighboring Metropolis, as things in Metropolis often took the path of least resistance and spilled into Gotham. Today, however, the breaking news was that four men were found hanging by their ankles from the overhead cables of a traffic light. How this was done during the day with nobody catching the perpetrators was a mystery, but it was not the grisly display of the bodies that concerned him, rather manner of death that caught Bruce's attention. Their skin had turned white, their hair green, and their faces were contorted into a rictus grin. It was the signature of the Joker, and this meant that he was in Metropolis.

Then came the announcement that these were the same men that Clark Kent had caught in connection with the bombing of tenements in the Simon Project. This was no coincidence, and somehow, he just knew that Luthor was involved. Hiring the Joker and freeing him from Arkham, though—Luthor was either a fool, or the devil incarnate. Tonight, he hoped that Lex's computers would reveal which one.

With that, Bruce suited up. It was time for the Batman to do a little pre-gala detective work. He hated to go out during the day; the costume worked best after twilight, but it could not be helped. He hoped that maybe his old friend might provide some much needed backup if things got out of hand.

* * *

Diana explained that Luthor had stolen a photograph, and she was determined to get it back. Somehow, Clark doubted that the photo itself was her objective, as it seemed to be Luthor's computers that she was really interested in. Still, with her pressed against him on the back of the bike, combined with his super hearing, he could monitor her vitals, and was certain that she was not lying. Once they were out on the highway, Diana had adopted a less intimate riding pose, seating herself upright, and simply placing her hands on his hips. She still was pressed against him; she needed to be able to hear him, but she had dropped the pretense of hanging on him.

"I get the impression that you're not here solely on your own, Ms. Prince," Clark said.

"I work with Interpol, though I do so very discreetly," she revealed. "And let me be clear; I work _with_ them, not _for_ them. I'm investigating the same man you and your partner are: Lex Luthor. He is a greater threat than you know, and that's saying something, given that you're already on his trail."

"Alright, Diana," Clark replied. "I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"Take you to the gala."

"I thought we'd already agreed to that."

Clark shook his head. "No; you said you needed me to get you in, I never answered."

"Yes, which means you did not say no—which is a yes as far as I was concerned, but thank you for confirming what I already knew."

Clark laughed. "You remind me of Lois."

"I'm older than she," Diana quipped. "Hence, she reminds you of me, not the other way around."

"Now you _really_ remind me of Lois."

Diana just laughed.

Clark brought the bike back into the city, and Diana began directing him. Finally, he ended up in front of the Grande Metro Hotel. Clark made a whistling sound as the bike stopped.

"What, you see a pretty girl?"

"No, Diana; I don't make catcalls. I was just thinking that the nightly rate is as much as my monthly rent."

Diana laughed again. "You're full of surprises, Mister Kent."

"You couldn't deduce that, knowing that I'm a reporter?"

"Oh, I could; it merely surprises me that you do not occupy a higher place on the socio-economic scale. With your abilities, you could lead a nation—or indeed, a union of nations."

Clark shook his head. "Humans get delusions of grandeur in their heads when they get wealth and power. I've got super powers, Diana. It's my place to serve humanity, not rule over them, and ascending to the ranks of the social elite would sever my connection to humanity. I cannot allow that."

"I know, and that is what is surprising—in a good way."

"Say, Diana, how did you figure out I'm Superman?"

She giggled. "I saw you take off, then come right down in an alleyway, and emerge dressed as Clark Kent. You're not the only one with enhanced senses, though I don't believe I have the kind of powers that you do."

Clark chuckled. "A victim of my own complacency," he admitted. "I'll pick you up here tonight at …"

"No, Clark; the Ferrari is back by now. I'll pick you up. Six sharp."

At that moment, Clark heard a woman's voice shriek, "Superman!" He instantly recognized the damsel in distress: Lois. "Gotta go," he said. Gunning the engine, he rode off as fast as he could. Hooking his feet under the passenger pegs, and gripping the handlebars, he rounded a corner, and flew into the air, hanging onto the bike, and hoping that nobody saw Clark Kent on a motorcycle being whisked into the air as if by some unseen force.

* * *

Lois had been cornered in a back alley, and chided herself for ending up here. _Why do I even run down alleyways in the first place? They always dead end, and I always end up trapped!_ Usually, she could either fight her way out; Lois' father had made sure of that, or the police showed up in the nick of time. This time was different, though. There would be no police, and the four gunmen stayed well out of range of her kicks.

"Nowhere to go, Miss Lane," one of them said menacingly. "You've been digging in places you shouldn't."

"Guess she didn't call Miss Utility," another one joked, to the amusement of his three partners.

"Great," she spat sarcastically. "What are you going to do? Hold me at gunpoint and kill me with stale jokes?"

"No, Miss Lane," the first one replied. "We're going to kill you; just waiting for cover, that's all."

As soon as he spoke, she heard the whine of a diesel engine, and soon, a large trash truck was backing in, coming down the alleyway toward them. _Not good_ , she thought. The sound of a gunshot would be lost amid the clattering of a garbage truck, and the sheer size of the vehicle would eliminate any witnesses. Recently, Superman had been the one to come to her rescue, so she decided to just shriek, "Superman!"

They squeezed their triggers, and she closed her eyes. The sound of gunfire was loud, but the bullets never reached her. Four loud explosions sounded, along with a slew of expletives.

"Get out of here! Get out of here," the leader exclaimed, but it was too late. A loud clatter, and more expletives followed, and then silence.

"Call the police, Miss Lane." It was Clark's voice.

"Yeah, Clark, I …" she opened her eyes, and standing in front of the garbage truck, bad guys neatly restrained with rebar bent around them and tied, was Superman. The explosions she heard were the sounds of their guns being melted right down to the clips, which exploded in the magazine. "Clar …" she shook her head. "You sound just like …" she looked at him again, closely, and in that instant, she realized the truth.

"Clark Kent is Superman!" Then her eyes went wide, and her hands went to her mouth. "Oh, my God! I didn't mean to say that out loud! Those men …"

"Are out cold, Lois. Don't worry. We'll talk about it later. Call the police, Lois. Don't worry; I'll wait here with you."

Lois nodded, unsure of what to do or say next. She had gushed so openly about Superman to everyone in the office, all the while treating the disguised Superman like yesterday's news. The disguise was brilliant; the glasses, slicked back hair, and the slouch all made her see exactly what he wanted her to see. Had she not closed her eyes before they fired, she would never have made the connection. Suddenly, she realized that Clark Kent was in love with her. _If he's in love with me … if he's Superman … Oh my God! Superman's in love with me!_

The police had taken the four gunmen away, and Lois suspected that they would be out on bail soon, and probably end up dangling from a high tension wire like the four Clark had caught. Superman had flown off, leaving Lois to give a statement to the police.

As the police wrapped up, Lois heard the rumble of Clark's Harley; a gunmetal 1996 Superglide. Delaware had no helmet law for adults over eighteen, so she could ride with him, though riding without a helmet always made her nervous. She had chided Clark about riding helmetless, but now, it made sense: Clark was Superman, and Superman was invulnerable.

"Superman told me you were here, Lois," he said. "I can give you a lift if you'd like."

Lois nodded. She looked down at her skirt, then shrugged, hiked it up, placed one foot on the left hand passenger peg and threw the other over the sissy bar, and planted herself. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her face into his leather jacket, inhaling the scent.

"You okay, Lois?"

"Yeah, Clark; I am. Just—take me home."

The big bike sped off, Lois' hair blowing in the wind. She held tightly once they started moving, pressing herself against him. Apparently, he had deposited the bike around the corner, evidently riding it when she called out to him. They rode in silence, and Lois was thankful for Clark's smooth riding. _Good ol' Smallville_ , she thought. _Ever the gentleman_. Her mind whirled as she contemplated the ramifications of knowing Superman's secret identity. It was the biggest news of the century. Lois could get a Pulitzer for this one, but it would not be worth it. Clark was her friend, and she would guard his secret, with her life if need be.

* * *

They arrived at her apartment in less than fifteen minutes, and Clark helped Lois off of the bike, gently lifting her so that she did not have to further hike up her skirt.

"Thanks, Clark," she said as he set her down. "You were just in time. I thought I was dead!"

"You know I wouldn't let anything …"

Before he could finish, she jumped up and kissed him. "Don't say anything, Clark. Just take me inside."

He nodded, and escorted her into her apartment. She motioned for him to sit on the love seat, and went into the kitchen to brew some coffee.

"Clark, I drink the strong stuff, even at night. You okay with that?"

"Thank you, Lois; I'd love a cup."

She smiled to herself. Dinner with Bruce had been informative and even nice, but she realized that Bruce was never really present with her. He invested nothing in his time with her; everything was on the surface, just for show, and it made her nervous to be around him. It reminded her too much of sociopathic killers. Clark, on the other hand, was always present with her. He was always appreciative of her, and always responded to her. She thought he was boring, and constantly threw it in his face, making fun of his mundane background, only to find out that Clark was the most powerful man in the universe.

At that point, she felt tears in her eyes, realizing that she had a date tonight with the wrong man, a wrong man with whom she had demanded Clark set her up. _I smiled at him and kissed him to throw him a bone_ , she recalled. She wondered how many times she had done things like that to Clark since they had met, and she realized that it was more than she could count. Lois began sobbing softly, trying not to draw Clark's attention, but then she felt his hand on her shoulder. _Super hearing_ , she thought.

"Lois, what's wrong?"

"Clark, I …"

"Let me make the coffee," he offered.

She felt his strong hands rubbing her shoulders, and for the first time, she noticed the warmth that emanated from him. She had no idea where he had learned how to give a massage, but his hands were like magic, and she felt the tension evaporating from her muscles.

"Clark, why did you stay so nice to me?"

"How could I not? Lois, I think you're amazing. There's nobody like you. Not in Metropolis, not in America, not anywhere. You're the best thing that could ever have happened to me, Lois."

She turned around, forcing herself to break free of his amazing shoulder rub. "How can you say that, Clark? I've been …"

"Much more of a mentor than you could possibly know, Lois. You were legendary before I ever came to the Planet. I've learned so much working with you, and believe it or not, you've been a great friend."

"I've been a lousy friend, Clark, but yeah," she smiled up at him, touching his cheek. "I am legendary. You know, Clark, I was sitting with Bruce at dinner last night, and all I could think about was that I felt more comfortable—when I'm with you. He's just so—empty. It's like he's dead behind those eyes."

"He's not, Lois," Clark said. "He's—different when you know him well. There's the Bruce he shows the world, then there's the real Bruce."

"Yeah, but when you're— _him_ , you don't have that look. You don't go from being a warm friendly person to an empty shell when you become Superman, or the other way around."

Clark was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Finally, he spoke. "Lois, Bruce watched his parents die. He withdrew into himself for a long time, and only Alfred and I were able to get to the real Bruce. The board at Wayne Tech tried to take the company from him, tried to force him out. He could show no weakness, no emotion. There are other things, but those were told to me in confidence. He and I have a trust that I cannot break."

"How much does he know about our writing partnership?"

"Only what he sees in the paper, and only what a fantastic woman I think you are."

"And he still went out with me? Clark, what kind of friend would …"

That was when the door opened, and Lucy and Bruce practically fell into the living room, lips locked, and working to undress each other.

"Believe me, I didn't know about this," Clark assured.

"Lucy!" Lois stood with her hands on her hips.

Bruce and Lucy turned in the direction of the kitchen. Lucy looked terrified, but Bruce just smiled. "What can I say? I have a sister fantasy. Would have asked you to …"

Lois turned red, and interrupted. "You're doing this to throw me off of you and toward Clark, aren't you?"

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Lucy just giggled.

"I've already realized what a—super guy he really is," Lois said. "I thought maybe tonight …"

"About that, Lois," Clark interjected. "You, Bruce, and I need to talk—about tonight."

Lois did a double take. "What _about_ tonight?"

"I think you need to go with Bruce," he explained. "Maintain the plan."

"But the gala tonight …" Bruce began.

"Bruce, there's another player involved, one the three of us need to discuss."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Another player?"

"Yes, another player," Clark confirmed. "She showed up after Superman stopped machinegun wielding goons from killing a cop. I was just getting to my bike when she caught up to me. She—knew things, things she should not have known."

Bruce looked contemplative for a moment. "So, the new Sluggers are four again?"

"Sluggers?" Lois looked confused.

"Clark, Lana, Pete, and me," Bruce explained. "We had a baseball team."

Lucy's mouth opened in a surprised smile. "You two owned a baseball team? That's so cool!"

"We were like ten," Bruce said. "Four of us played in the summer—one summer." Bruce then put on his business face. "We shut it down after one season. The merch is rare, highly valuable, so we sold it. I founded a new division of WayneTech, and Clark went to Vegas and got married by Elvis, gambled all the money away, and she turned out to be a he, and the marriage was annulled. Sound about right, Clark?"

Clark folded his arms, and looked at Bruce like a parent looks at a child when they say something wildly inappropriate, but Lois saw it. Bruce, when he talked with Clark, was no longer empty. Clark was right. Then she realized that Bruce had been that way when he was looking at Lucy.

"Bruce, if you and Lucy want to finish up whatever you started, Clark and I can …"

"We don't have time," Clark said. "We need to talk, and I'm sorry, Lucy, but I need to borrow your billionaire before Lois takes him to the gala." He looked at Lois and Bruce. "My place, now."

"Lucy, I'll be back tonight, after the gala," Bruce promised.

Lucy waved to him as the three of them exited the apartment, Lois still confused by Clark's sudden revelation about another player.

* * *

 **Half an hour later …**

"Okay, Clark, we're in your apartment, where nobody can spy on us," Lois began as they went inside. "Now what's the big … who's she?" Lois stared at the tall woman who stood in Clark's living room.

"I don't know how she got in here, but she's the new player," Clark announced. "Diana Prince, this is …"

"Lois Lane," Diana said, crossing the room and shaking Lois's hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Lane."

Lois could not place the accent, but it sounded Mediterranean. The woman's handshake was firm, like a good business handshake, but her hand felt like it was made of iron.

"And you are Bruce Wayne," Diana said, looking at Bruce. "But why did Clark bring you here?"

"The time has come for total truth between us—all of us," Clark said. "You knew who I was; who I _really_ was. You knew about Lois, my feelings for Lois, and God knows what else. I agreed to escort you to the gala …"

Lois' mouth dropped open, gasping an involuntary, "Ah!" She shook her head. "Clark, when were you going to tell me?"

"Right about now, but Diana surprised us."

"Do not worry, Miss Lane," Diana assured. "I have no romantic interest in Mister Kent. This is strictly professional. Luthor has something of mine, and I need help getting it back. Clark was kind enough to agree to help me get in. Once inside …"

"Once inside, Clark and I already have a plan," Bruce interjected. "I can work you in, but you follow the plan, or you stick to being arm-candy. Do I make myself clear?"

Lois was surprised at how forceful Bruce had suddenly become. Diana, however, remained unimpressed.

"I, Bruce Wayne, am no man's arm-candy. Not even Superman's, though he would never degrade me by making such an inference."

"Wait, wait, wait," Lois said. "She knows you're Superman, Clark?"

"She figured it out on her own," Clark assured.

"But now, Bruce knows …"

"Bruce already knew."

Bruce grinned. "I've known about Clark since we were in elementary school. But back to you, Ms. Prince. What makes you an asset to this operation, and why should we trust you?"

"Because your best friend trusts me."

Bruce looked at Clark, who nodded. "I trust that she's telling the truth based on heartrate, body temperature, and brainwaves."

"You can detect lies just by looking at someone?" Lois shook her head. "Hah! Could have used you two years ago."

"So, what is the plan, Mister Wayne?" Diana asked.

"Simple; you go in on Kent's arm. Everyone will notice him because everyone will notice you. Lane and I ago in, and everyone will notice her, because everyone will notice me. We'll all be in communication; we'll all hear what each of us are saying at all times. Lane and Kent tag team Luthor, hitting him with hard questions while you and I mingle. I have floorplans and layouts of LexCorp; I made a little excursion this afternoon after I found out that the Joker is in Metropolis. Couldn't find him, but I did get the layouts. I get into the server room, and plant this little baby." Bruce held up a small device that reminded him of a Bic lighter. "I get back to the party while my collector does its job. I return, we mingle, then when I give the signal, you go retrieve it, Ms. Prince. That will throw them off. When Clark isn't grilling Luthor, he uses his vision and hearing powers to keep us apprised of security's movements, and anything else pertinent. Expect large portions of the building to be lead-lined."

"So, aside from asking questions of Luthor," Lois asked, "What do I do?"

"Weigh his answers and ask more questions," Bruce replied. "Keep that man occupied, and keep him on the defensive. Once we've obtained our objective, you and Diana start chatting. Clark and I will find you, and the four of us leave together because Bruce Wayne throws better parties. Don't deviate from the plan, unless things go sideways. Then, do what you do best, each of you. Lois, I cannot emphasize enough that this is about investigation, not striking our foe." Then he turned to Clark. "Lois and I need to get changed, and so do you and Ms. Prince. I promise I won't do anything inappropriate with her Clark." Then he looked at Lois. "Can't say the same for Lucy."

Lois threw her hands in the air, and mock shouted, "Superman!"

Bruce just laughed. "See you at the party, Clark."


	7. Chapter 7

**Black Tie**

The limousine arrived at Lois' apartment right on time, and it was Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's butler, who knocked at her door, rather than Bruce himself. She smiled weakly at him, which prompted him to offer a warm, grandfatherly smile in response.

"Your chariot awaits, Miss Lane."

His English accent and kindly manner put her at ease, but she was still nervous about this night. Clark Kent was the man she wanted to be with, and Clark was indeed Superman. In one afternoon, her entire world had turned upside down. Her reporter's instincts told her that there was more to Wayne than just being a depressed tech billionaire who hated Luthor. With Clark being Superman, Lois had just had a lesson in how effective hiding in plain sight could be. As a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, she should have picked up on it right away, but she did not. How much else was she missing?

"Thank you, Alfred," she said nervously. "I'm ready."

Alfred laughed ruefully. "I sincerely doubt that, Miss Lane. Though he believes he is, Bruce is not truly ready either."

Lois nodded, but said nothing, instead, walking to the limousine in silence with Alfred. The butler held the door to the limo for her, and helped her into the car, where she seated herself across from Bruce Wayne, the door closing behind her with a vault-like solidity. The interior of the limo looked less like a luxury vehicle, and more like a spy van from a James Bond movie.

 _Look beyond the surface_ , she thought. _Put two and two together, even if they don't seem like they add up at first_.

"Miss Lane," Bruce said, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. "Everything is in place. I have a man on the inside, and while we're there, Alfred will monitor us from the car." He then turned from the screen, removing a large, black-velvet jewelry gift box from his jacket, and opened it, presenting Lois with a lovely diamond pendant. "This contains all of the communications equipment to facilitate our staying in contact, as we discussed earlier."

"How—romantic."

"Thought you liked Clark?"

"I do like Clark," Lois replied. "But I was really excited to meet you. The reality is less than I expected."

Bruce chuckled. "That was the point. Clark is my best friend. He only introduced us as a favor to you."

"Which I still don't get," Lois quipped. "I mean, the man was ga-ga for me. Why introduce me to his best friend?"

"Because that's what Clark does. He assumed, correctly, that you were disinterested, and because he cares about you, he was willing to introduce us because he knew he could trust me not to hurt you, or do wrong by you. If he had doubts about me, he would have insured that you and I had never met." Then his friendly tone evaporated. "And you only like him now because he's Superman. When he was 'just Clark,' you couldn't have cared less about him."

Lois nodded, but said nothing. Bruce's words stung. And they were true.

"If I had been more reciprocal, or had truly opened up to you, you would still be ignoring him. Of course, why would I open up to a shallow woman like you? Clark's friendship means more to me than any woman, Lois. Perhaps that will change when I meet the right girl. Maybe Lucy is the right girl, but you? Not in a million years. I'd talk him out of wanting to see you if he weren't so in love with you—and if I thought your current feelings weren't genuine."

"I guess I deserved that," Lois sighed.

"I wasn't berating you, Lois. Just telling you the truth. I can see why he likes you. There's more under the surface than your exterior would have led me to believe."

"Same goes for you, Bruce."

* * *

The limo stopped in front of LexCorp Tower, and Bruce exited when Alfred opened the door. He held a hand for Lois, who took it, and stepped out, taking his offered arm.

"Showtime," Bruce said, as they walked past the throng of photographers.

 _Great_ , she thought. _I'll be on the cover of every lowbrow gossip mag in Metropolis!_

As the limo drove away, it was replaced by a brand new, red Ferrari 550 Barchetta. Clark stepped out of the left side, and Lois wondered how he had gotten his hands on such a car. He opened the car's right door, and Diana Prince stepped out, taking his offered hand. That was when the valet looked with puzzlement into the left door, and then came around and got in on the right, driving the car away. Lois realized that the car was right hand drive. _This is_ her _car!_

Visually, the two were ideal. Clark stood straight and tall, a look of commanding confidence on his face. When he did not slouch, Clark's six foot four inch height made him look imposing, towering over lesser men. The tuxedo he wore fit him perfectly, the black jacket with tails accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, a black cummerbund and bowtie rounding it out. He reminded her of James Bond with glasses.

Diana was nearly as tall as Clark, and her heels were not more than two inches. She wore a silvery sequined dress. The gown went over the left shoulder, and behind her neck, becoming a full-length sleeve on her right arm, leaving her left arm bare. It mattered not that she was with Bruce; nobody cared about him any longer. All eyes were on Diana, and at the same time, on Clark Kent. It would be the Daily Planet's star rookie on the cover of the gossip mags, not Lois and Bruce.

Lois smiled to Clark, who nodded, but never altered his facial expression. Only a slight softening of his eyes gave her any indication of reciprocated affection on his part.

"Don't stare at them," Bruce admonished. "Give Luthor and his flunkies nothing."

"Right." She wanted to trip Bruce in that moment, but that would derail the evening, so she decided instead to change the subject. "You mentioned to Clark that he should expect led lined walls. Why?" Lois voice was barely above a whisper, but Bruce heard.

"LexCorp lines the walls with lead both to contain residual radiation, and to shield LexCorp from the prying eyes of the government. It's one of the reasons my imaging equipment couldn't get me more detail."

The fact that Bruce Wayne had imaging equipment, and had used it on LexCorp Tower got her attention, but she rephrased her question rather than get sidetracked.

"No, Bruce; I mean, why does it matter to _Clark_?"

"Because it does. If you want more detail, ask Clark."

"Cut the need to know and you don't crap, Bruce. I need to know."

Bruce suddenly dipped Lois, and before she knew it, was kissing her deeply and passionately. When their lips parted, he whispered, "No, you don't."

Lois stole a backward glance at Clark, but if he noticed, or was bothered by Bruce's unwanted kiss, he did not show it. She smiled, and stood, waving to the cheering paparazzi, then whispered to Bruce, "Do that again, and you will never father children."

"Then ask Clark."

* * *

Clark heard the entire exchange between Lois and Bruce. He could have used their communications setup to let her know, but given the capabilities of LexCorp, he was not entirely certain how secure even the Batman's communications were. While Clark did not appreciate Bruce suddenly lip-locking Lois, he did appreciate that the tech billionaire kept his confidences.

As he and Diana stepped inside, they both were taken aback by the grandeur of the place. The lower level was four stories high, and had a massive crystal chandelier. The room was decorated like grand ballroom from the Titanic, or at least the movie's representation of it. Wall sconces held diamond shaped, art deco style lamps. The floor was white marble, and all of the wood was a dark rosewood. The lighting was subdued, while at the same time bright - a feat in itself. Strains of Respighi filled the air as the chamber orchestra played. All around them were the rich and famous of Metropolis.

Diana paused, and leaned in, as though to kiss his cheek. Pretty as she was, he hoped she would not.

"Break off and join Lois as soon as she and Bruce split up," she whispered. "Then I can have a word with him about unwanted physical contact, and you and Lois can do what you came here to do."

"Sounds like a plan."

"So why did he mention lead lined walls?"

"Not here, Diana," Clark whispered, making sure to include Bruce and Lois. "Too many electronic eyes and ears." Clark glanced up at the large, crystal chandelier. "One big sensor array."

Diana's eyes widened. "You can _see_ all that?"

Clark just nodded, mildly annoyed that she was asking him questions when he had just told her that the entire chandelier was a sensor array. Thankfully, Diana seemed to get the hint. Clark looked around and as Bruce had indicated, LexCorp Tower had rooms, and indeed, entire floors that were lined with lead, though most of those were below the street level. Only the penthouse atop the tower was lead lined above the street. The tower did however, have above street level lead lined rooms scattered throughout its impressive height.

Lex had not yet appeared, but Clark guessed that the lead lined elevator car that was now descending from the penthouse was where Luthor was at presence. Lex could block a visual scan, but Clark's ears were sensitive beyond the range of any human listening device. It was faint, but he could hear voices from the elevator. He could not make out the words, but he could pick up three distinct voices; a man and a woman. Then the elevator stopped, and the two exited. Now, he could see them, and indeed, it was Lex Luthor, and his body guard, Mercy Graves.

"Dammit, Mercy," Luthor scolded, "Of all the times—they'll be starting any moment!"

"And we're planning to be fashionably late, sir."

Luthor grunted. "Go take care of it, but be quick about it!"

Mercy went to the ladies' room. Before she entered, Clark scanned the restroom for anything unusual. Thankfully, it was unoccupied. Finding nothing, he scanned Mercy, but apart from her sidearm, cell phone, and communications rig, she had nothing unusual on her person, not even a phone built into her heels. Clark shifted his focus to a nervous Luthor, refusing to intrude on Mercy's privacy. Luthor was on the phone with someone.

"I've been delayed. As soon as my elevator enters the basement levels, I'll signal you."

"Yes, sir."

Clark could actually hear the voices from their source; they were in another part of the building, on the same floor as the gala. The men were armed and wearing hardsuits: the D.F.A. gang.

Diana felt Clark's grip on her hand tighten to the point of discomfort, something no other man could accomplish, and he practically pulled her to Bruce and Lois. She could break his grip—maybe, but Clark had seen something, and needed to get the two of them to Bruce and Lois fast, so she went with it.

"Diana, this is my partner, Lois Lane. I thought you should meet!"

Diana leaned in and pecked Clark's cheek, whispering, "You nearly pulled my arm out. What's going on?"

"Bruce," Clark said before anyone else could respond. "Do that thing you came here to do. Diana, I think Mister Wayne will need an escort." Then he looked intently at Bruce. "Delta Foxtrot Alpha."

Bruce's eyes widened, alarm visible on his face. This was the first time Diana had seen Wayne's supreme confidence shaken.

Lois went white and her mouth dropped open. "Oh, My God! Clark, we need to get out …"

"No—we finish the job," Clark countered. "I'll make sure nobody here dies. Remember, Lois; you know my hobby."

Lois only nodded as Diana followed Bruce, leaving the two reporters to do their part.

* * *

Wayne was a toned, athletic man, and moved as swiftly as any Amazon. Of course, she had already figured out that Bruce was the Batman, which meant that he would not be _completely_ useless if the fighting came their way.

"Never kiss a woman without her consent," Diana scolded as they walked.

"Never press me to give answers that I don't also want to give up to Luthor when we're in Luthor's tower."

Diana did not reply; he was a know-it-all, and probably only learned things the hard way.

Bruce found the server room quickly enough, the two of them stealthily avoiding security, though Diana was concerned about the cameras.

"I've already knocked out the cameras," Bruce volunteered, as if reading her mind.

She realized that she had been looking at them whenever she found one. "I'll keep watch. Do what you need to do."

"Should only take a minute." With that, Bruce disappeared into the room.

* * *

The D.F.A. gang burst into the gala, weapons brandished. They quickly surrounded the guests, and herded them into a tight circle in the center of the room.

"Cooperate, and nobody gets hurt," one of them warned.

Lois glared at him. Clark had made a quick exit, but he would return soon enough, albeit in a new set of clothes. The D.F.A. gang moved to collect jewelry, wallets, and cell phones, when the doors blew open, and a cyclone engulfed the room. Lois could hardly breathe as the indoor tornado tried to rip the air from her lungs. The sound was deafening, a sonic boom followed by far greater than gale force winds.

Then it was over.

The D.F.A. gang members were piled on the floor, wearing naught but their underwear. Those still conscious moaned or howled in pain, the sharp removal of their hardsuits and outer garments likely doing severe injury to them. Another pile of empty hardsuits stood a few yards away. Superman floated above the two piles, his arms crossed, a deep ruby glow emanating from his eyes, and a stern expression on his face. For the first time, Lois felt fear in Clark's presence, and she suddenly understood Mayson Drake's fear of Superman.

From the side of the ballroom, a rhythmic clapping sounded. Lois looked to see a gloating Lex Luthor walking toward the Man of Steel, clapping his hands. At his side was Mercy Graves.

"Impressive, Superman," Luthor praised. "I knew you'd show up and save the day."

Lex Luthor was a tall, well-built man, though with Superman hovering overhead, Lex looked small and frail. The Man of Steel gently floated down, coming to rest right in front of Luthor and Graves.

"Where was your security? You have the finest team in Metropolis, and surveillance equipment all over the city. Surely, they would have noticed something amiss outside."

Lois nodded approvingly. Clark was a reporter, even when wearing the spandex outfit.

"I held them back," Luthor declared, the guests, including the mayor, gasping at the admission. "I wanted to see what you could do, and you more than lived up to my expectations." With that, Luthor produced a check.

"Five million dollars? What on Earth for?" Superman glared at Luthor as he asked.

"A retainer. Consider yourself part of the team, Superman."

Superman shook his head. "My services are not for sale, Mister Luthor. I serve the people of Metropolis, and indeed, the nation, not the elite."

"In that case," shouted the mayor, "I hereby deputize you, Superman! Lex Luthor's reckless endangerment could have gotten all of us killed!"

"I don't think that will be necessary, your honor," Superman replied, looking over at Maggie Sawyer and the S.C.U. who were entering the ballroom. "I believe Captain Sawyer can take it from here."

Through it all, Superman stood tall, his arms folded, looking down at Lex. Standing face to face with Luthor, Superman was taller by nearly three inches, and outweighed the tech mogul by a solid eighty pounds or more.

Lois shuddered at the thought of what Clark could do to a normal human being. The D.F.A. members were being loaded onto stretchers, all of them with concussions, and most of them with severe tears and breaks. The human body was not meant to be moved that quickly, and injuries were unavoidable. Lois actually felt sorry for them, though she knew Clark had no choice; he could not risk the gang shooting at him, and endangering the guests in the process.

As a reporter, Lois was already snapping pictures, a compact camera on her at all times. She made sure to get a photo of Superman with the mayor, and giving his statement to Maggie. Lois also got a choice shot of Lex being cuffed, his face twisted into a mask of rage. As they hauled him away, he shouted, "You'll pay for this, Superman! Your doomsday is not far off, mark my words! My lawyers will have me out, and you'll pay!"

Lex Luthor arrested, and Lois was on hand to get the scoop. She beamed at the thought, and could not resist calling out, "Don't drop the soap, Lex!"

Superman flew off, and moments later, Clark stood at her side. "Hey Lois; my eyeglasses fell apart, and I had to repair them. Did I miss anything?"

Lois turned to him, a closed mouth grin on her face. She felt like the cat that caught the canary. "I scooped you, Kent—but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"You are the best, Miss Lane," he agreed. "It's why Perry has me learning from you."

She saw Bruce and Diana appear, the tech billionaire giving her and Clark a thumbs up. They had completed the mission and hopefully, the information Bruce would obtain would be enough for Lois to crucify Luthor on the front page of the paper every day for weeks to come.

"Take me home, Clark," she said, leaning into him and encircling him in her arms. "I need to talk to you, away from prying ears."

"Of course, Miss Lane."

She stepped up on his shoes, and then stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his lips. "Please, Clark; call me Lois."


	8. Chapter 8

**Machinations**

In the aftermath of Luthor's arrest, nobody noticed that Diana and Bruce left alone, and Lois and Clark had simply vanished. Lois looked down over the city as she rested in the arms of Superman. She still could not get over the fact that Mister Mild Mannered was actually the Man of Steel. Lois had been as head over heels for Superman as Clark had been for Lois, never realizing until couple of days ago that Clark actually _was_ Superman. Learning that detail made the rest of Clark's weird idiosyncrasies make perfect sense; his abruptly disappearing, often with flimsy excuses after the fact, the way he seemed to just 'know' things, and the insane speed that he had demonstrated on more than one occasion. She looked back at Clark, no longer caring about the magnificent view of the city, and just stared at his face, smiling to herself. _He's got me wrapped around his little finger_ , she thought. Then she wondered; _Can he read my mind?_

He noticed her looking at him, and turned, asking, "Lois? You alright?"

She just nodded. Apparently, he did not read minds. "Just thinking about you, Clark. You, me—us."

He smiled at that. "You too, huh?"

She nodded as he brought them in low, behind a grove of trees near her apartment building, and before she knew it, had changed back into Clark Kent. He smiled and held out his hand. She took it, and walked hand in hand with him toward the building's front door.

"Yeah, me too." Her voice was soft, calm. Lois could not remember a time when she was not hyper, or nervous, but now that she knew the truth of Superman, she felt more settled. "I guess the question is … what now?"

He shrugged. "Go out on dates, work together like we've been …"

"You buying coffee for me every morning," she interjected with a giggle.

"Of course, Lois. I wouldn't change that for anything; it makes you smile."

She sighed contentedly and leaned against him as they walked, resting her head on his shoulder. "It does, doesn't it? But that wasn't what I was talking about. I worry because we're so … different." In public, even though there was hardly a soul around, she did not want to say anything revealing.

By now, they had reached her building and were walking up the steps to the front door. Clark stopped, and then took her in his arms and kissed her. As soon as his lips touched hers, she felt as though she would melt in his arms.

"We take it one day at a time, Lois. No need to get ahead of ourselves, or overthink it."

She noticed that he was always warm. Even while flying, she was never cold, even though they had been up high enough that she should have been. His lips were equally warm, almost crackling with energy. It was intoxicating for her.

"Uh … huh." She stood looking up at him, waiting for him to kiss her again. After he did, she half said/half whispered, "Lucy's out for the night. Take me inside, Clark."

Once inside, she motioned for him to sit on her love seat, and went to the kitchen, reappearing a few moments later with two glasses of wine, bringing them out and setting them on the coffee table. Watching her as she walked, he could hardly believe that she was finally his—or more accurately, that he was hers.

"Thank you, Lois."

Lois simply nodded, and then sat next to him—close, but maintaining some space between them so that she could look directly at him as they spoke. "This new territory for me, Clark. You've heard Cat rib me about my lack of love life, and there's a reason for that. Lucy says I'm too choosy, and between that and my busy schedule, not to mention getting burned in two serious relationships, I've held myself back. I've done some casual dating, but nobody ever measures up—and then I met Superman."

"Cat did make intimations about your feelings for my alter ego," Clark noted.

Lois nodded again. "Of all the men I knew, you were the only one who could really understand my work. But I dismissed you out of hand. When I met you, I thought you were cute, but so unsophisticated—a hayseed in short. Then I met Superman, and he measured up, even though I didn't know a thing about him." Then she smiled. "Somehow, though, I knew I could trust him. It was like there was something, I don't know, familiar about him. Then he turned out to be you, and I fell in love."

Lois was silent, looking at him expectantly. This was the first time he had ever seen her so vulnerable, so unsure of herself. "Lois, I've been in love with you from the day we met. I've told you that already, but I think it bears repeating."

"Yes, but now that we have each other, what happens? I mean, you're … are you even human?"

"Humanoid," Clark explained. "I'm indistinguishable to a human except under a microscope. I'm from the planet Krypton."

"So … you're Kryptonian."

He nodded. "Kryptonians are—were highly evolved. Our senses are far superior to humans, and our bodies are stronger and have far greater molecular density due to higher gravity. Our brains process information at much greater speed than human brains do, and our average I.Q. is over two hundred. Kryptonians also have eidetic memory."

"So, can all Kryptonians fly and deflect bullets? Or is that like some super kung fu you learned?"

"I left Krypton as an infant, Lois. The planet exploded. So far as I know, I am the last. I was raised by the Kents after my ship landed near their farm. It's likely that Wayne Irig's rock is a piece of Krypton." He took a sip of his wine and continued. "Krypton orbited a red sun. Kryptonian physiology allows me to process solar energy—we actually don't need to eat, truth be told, but I like to. A yellow sun is far more nourishing, and after years absorbing solar energy, my powers developed far more than they would have on Krypton."

"Just … how powerful are you?"

He shrugged. "I'm faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and I can leap the tallest building in Metropolis by the strength of my legs alone." Lois gasped, but he continued. "I can change the course of mighty rivers and bend steel in my bare hands. You already know about my heat vision and invulnerability. Bruce theorizes that I could survive a nuclear blast."

"Holy … Clark, you could rule the world!"

"No one should rule the world, Lois," Clark replied. "As I said before, Superman needs to be checked by the press. I'm too powerful to not to be. It keeps me grounded. I'm thankful for my humble upbringing. It kept me from becoming an entitled bully."

"So Clark … can we … do you have … ?" Lois looked down, blushing brightly.

"As I said, I'm indistinguishable from a human man. Let me put it bluntly: I have all the parts, they work the same way. I can touch you without annihilating you, kiss you without snapping your neck or crushing the bones of your face, and be intimate with you without killing you. I do not know if human and Kryptonian DNA are compatible, however, so I do not know if we can have children."

"I haven't thought that far ahead, but lots of human couples can't have kids, so we could always adopt if we can't."

"Lois …"

She pressed her lips to his. "Hush, Clark. Just hold me. Just be with me. No more talking—my head is spinning as it is from what you've told me. Just be with me tonight."

Clark kissed her. "Of course, Lois."

* * *

While Lex Luthor's lawyers worked to release him from police custody, Bruce poured through the data that he had copied from Luthor's computers, and what he found, he did not like. Luthor had a whole file on Diana, who had fought with the United States forces during World War Two. It was fascinating, and he realized that she was far more powerful than he had initially estimated. What worried Bruce was that Luthor had extensive data on her, all gathered from observations of her in the field. Luthor knew how strong she was, how fast she was, and knew all of her vulnerabilities, which unlike Clark, were many.

Luthor had files on other meta-humans as well, with the most recent being Superman. It seemed that Luthor really was behind the museum and Star Labs thefts. While Luthor had did not have volumes of information on Superman, he did have detailed information, most specifically, that of Superman's electro-magnetic signature. The rock emitted a high band radiation that would interfere with Superman's nervous system—or so Luthor believed. What worried Bruce the most was mention of another specimen, in whom the rock caused rapid cellular degeneration. If that specimen were another Kryptonian, then Luthor likely knew more about Clark's physiology than Clark did.

The other meta-humans on the list looked promising. Bruce earmarked a few to approach for his grand project. That would wait until later, however. Right now, he had to get that rock—no, those rocks from Luthor. Thankfully, the data he obtained also had full floorplans for the building, and even indicated where the rocks were being kept.

"Time to go to work."

* * *

As she drove her Ferrari, Diana heard the sound of the car phone ringing. She considered ignoring it, but it was Bruce's number, so she decided to pick up.

"I'm driving."

" _I know_ ," he replied. " _I called your car phone, remember?_ "

"Then keep it short."

" _I've decrypted the disc; Luthor knows who you are, and has all of the data gathered on you during World War Two. He knows all of your strengths and weaknesses, from how much damage you can take, to how much you can reliably lift_."

"Not _all_ of my strengths and weaknesses, but more than enough it seems—and as a result of you having that disc, you now know them too."

" _I know Clark's too, so don't feel bad_."

"I seriously doubt you know that much detail about Clark's powers, but even if you do, I'm hardly reassured; Clark is your best friend, and he probably shared it all with you voluntarily."

" _Yes, but that's not the point. I called you because you needed to know as soon as humanly possible—he's pierced your identity_."

"That is a problem. Thank you, Bruce—or should I say, Batman?"

" _Well played, Diana. Only you and Clark know that secret, though I suppose Luthor might suspect. He has not yet figured out who Superman is, but he's trying desperately_."

"He might go after Lois to get to Clark," Diana noted.

" _He might do that anyway; Lois is having a field day with his arrest, and an anonymous source has already sent her a data packet containing sensitive information on LexCorp, information that will be very damaging once she publishes it. The first article is on the front page of today's paper; the drive confirmed the link between Luthor and the D.F.A. Gang. And there's material more damaging than that_."

"Then we must be on our guard, Bruce Wayne."

" _He also has a Project Doomsday. It seems to be targeted at Superman, but …_ "

"Anything powerful enough to hurt him is even more dangerous to us. Not a pleasant thought."

" _He's got some ore extracted from a meteor that he thinks can hurt Superman too. I'm heading there now to relieve him of it. Be careful in the meantime—Bruce out_."

* * *

With the building under lockdown after Luthor's arrest, getting in would not be easy—but that had never deterred the Batman. Bruce hated to keep Lucy waiting, and he had made sure to call her. She was disappointed initially, but then he offered to have Alfred pick her up in the Rolls and take her to his penthouse at the Metropolis Grand Hotel, where she currently awaited him. Once he was finished getting the ore from LexCorp, he decided that Batman would take a few days off so that Bruce could spend time with Lucy.

Tonight, the Bat Plane soared over Metropolis, systems on autopilot. As he flew in low over LexCorp Tower, the Batman ejected from the plane, using a specially designed cape made with a memory fabric that with a current run through it, became rigid wings. Batman used the cape to glide down to the rooftop of LexCorp Tower, the stealthy Bat Plane flying back to the airfield he recently purchased outside Metropolis. The Batmobile was similarly on auto, though in this case, it was speeding toward LexCorp Tower from the Bat Cave. It would arrive in fifteen minutes, at which point, the mission objectives should be complete.

For this mission, Bruce wore the all black suit for the first time. The material was designed to deflect light, and to be invisible to security systems. In passive mode, one could see it if they looked at him, and a camera could see him, while infrared and radar would not pick him up. In active mode, however, it had light bending technology that would render him invisible to cameras, allow him to pass through laser systems without doing all of Tom Cruise's gymnastics, and would even render him invisible to the human eye, as the Predator could do in that Arnold movie. The power drain was tremendous, but used strategically, and at the right times, it was invaluable, and would last through this night's mission.

Within moments, the Batman was inside the building. While in LexCorp computers earlier, Bruce had done more than just retrieve data—he had also left a little present for Lex Luthor. Bruce's virus would prevent security from detecting the movement of the elevator, and would erase all camera footage for the duration that he was in the building. As a result, Bruce could simply call the elevator to the upper floors and ride to his destination. It almost seemed too easy. When the elevator door opened, he knew that it was.

A gasmask equipped Joker fired a gas grenade into the hallway. Thankfully, Bruce already suspected the Joker of being involved, and wore a full mask tonight, complete with filters that would scrub any of the Joker's laughing gas. Batman responded by throwing a smoke pellet through the doors before Joker had a chance to push the close button, obscuring the Joker's vision. Even if Joker had infrared eyepieces, he would not pick up Batman in this suit. Joker,unable to see his foe, and was caught completely off guard when Batman caught him in the face with a flying sidekick, just as the doors closed. As the elevator began to move, Bruce took the opportunity to rope the Joker, hogtying him and gagging him for transport to Arkham.

Of course, if the Joker were onto him, then others likely were as well, so he prepped his gadgets, ready for a fight. The thud of footsteps on the car's roof indicated that his suspicions were correct, so he discharged another smoke pellet, and flattened himself against one corner and used the walls to climb from the floor, his head near the ceiling. He activated the suits invisibility mode. The access hatch in the ceiling opened, and two D.F.A. Gang members dropped into the car. This was bad—or would be if Batman were not prepared. Bruce surreptitiously dropped a device about the size of a pocket pager from his right hand. When it hit the floor, the small E.M. pulse rendered their suits useless, and the Batman fell upon the two men, immobilized inside of their now dead hardsuits. Bruce quickly removed their visors and sprayed them both with a sleeping agent. With his own suit's power cells drained by invisibility mode, he would now have to rely on the suit's passive capabilities.

As the elevator car came to a halt at its destination, Batman slipped through the access panel and closed it. As the elevator's doors opened, he could hear the sound of automatic weapons fire. He wondered in the Joker were dead, or if the Clown Prince would luck out, and all the gunfire would be at waist level or above. He heard the sounds of men entering the car. Using his mask's thermal optics, he took a page from Superman's book, and looked through the walls at their heat signatures. Once six of them were in the car, he clung to the side of the shaft, and used a laser-cutting tool to sheer the cable, causing the car to drop. Its automatic braking system kept the car from falling to the bottom, but it also trapped them several floors down. The six who remained outside, clad in riot gear and fatigues, rather than hardsuits, were momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events. Bruce used their shock to swing down, kicking two of them who were near the door simultaneously. Whirling and striking out with his cape, and executing low spinning kicks and elbow strikes, the Batman soon had all six knocked out before they could bring their weapons to bear.

His program opened the lab doors for him right on schedule, and inside were more security guards. Batman threw two flash pellets and a smoke bomb, which caused them to shoot in all directions as Batman remained safely outside. He heard screams, and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor as they ended up shooting at each other. Bruce then dove in, taking advantage of the confusion, to take down the rest. When the last man fell, his objective was before him.

There in the center of the room was a lead glass case. It had all manner of security contraptions, but Bruce decided to go old school, and simply threw a batarang into the glass, shattering it. The batarang impaled itself to the bottom of the case, a nice calling card. From there, he simply took the two rocks, and continued down the elevator shaft to the lobby.

Knowing that security would be waiting, he remotely ordered the Batmobile to crash through the front door, its twin M134 Miniguns firing all the while. As the elevator door opened, the Batmobile slid sideways, stopping right in front of the elevator doors, its canopy open. He was surprised to find the lobby was free of security, though he was thankful; no need for unnecessary loss of life. The Batman jumped in and drove off, making sure to make a second hole in the front plate glass of LexCorp's lobby as it crashed through to the outside, speeding off into the night.

* * *

Lex Luthor's lawyers had him released from jail in less than forty-eight hours, just as Lois, Clark, and Bruce knew they would. A limousine awaited him, Mercy Graves holding the door for him.

"Mister Luthor," she said as Lex's lawyers stepped into the back. "It's good to have you back. You might want to see this, however." She handed him a copy of the Daily Planet. "It seems Lois Lane has taken to kicking you while you're down."

"Thank you Mercy." He took the paper and looked at the headline: _D.F.A. Gang Employed by Luthor!_ Luthor chuckled. "Lois kicks me when I'm up. I'm an obsession for her. This will not go unanswered. Let us speak of this … elsewhere." Luthor then took his seat in the limousine, Mercy closing the door for him, and walking around to the driver's side.

Lex read the article as his lawyers bombarded him with questions and advice, none of which he heard. The information in Lane's article could only have been obtained by a hacker, and then, only from the inside. That meant either an inside job, or someone had penetrated the building's security. Until he either received the report from his staff, or went into the system itself, he would not be able to discern which, though he had his suspicions.

The limousine arrived at LexCorp Tower, and Luthor was unhappy to find the building surrounded by police. At first, he thought it might be some new attempt to get him back into jail, but when he saw the S.C.U., and the demolished front door of the building, he determined that it was not.

"Mister Luthor," Sawyer called as he alighted from the limo, "it seems you've suffered a break in."

"It seems so, Ms. Sawyer." He refused to call her captain. "But why is the Special Crimes Unit here, and not just the regular police?"

"Because according to eyewitnesses, it's Batman who broke into your building."

"Batman?" Lex was genuinely shocked. "Why would Batman break into my building?"

"I don't know," Maggie replied suspiciously. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Are you implying that I'm doing something underhanded that would interest the Batman?"

"No," she replied. "I'm implying that you need to tell us what was stolen. Your security won't let us into the building's interior past the lobby. The entire floor, and any floors that Batman managed to get to during his little visit, is a crime scene."

Luthor thought for sure that if anyone would break into his building, it would have been Superman. What interest did the Batman have with LexCorp? "Sorry Ms. Sawyer, but those areas of the building are off limits to …"

"Very well," Sawyer said calmly. "You want to do this the hard way, we'll do this the hard way. I can have a warrant in less than five minutes, so you just call your goons off and wait outside while we investigate. Don't make me force the issue. We have enough ordnance to go in whether you like it or not. Start shooting at us, and the National Guard will be on its way. Your choice."

It was then that Lex spied Lois Lane not ten feet away, tape recorder in her hand, and the Planet photographer, Jimmy Olsen, at her side, snapping pictures of it all. The kid wore a double-breasted vest with a bowtie, a pocket watch completing the look, to lend Olsen an old time air, but the Nikon camera he utilized was state of the art. Lex cursed himself for not noticing Lane sooner, and his security for not keeping her away.

"Very well, Ms. Sawyer," Lex finally conceded, hoping that Batman did not penetrate too far into the building. If he did, Sawyer might see some things that were most definitely not for the public eye. "Do your job."

"Already planned on that, Luthor."

* * *

As soon as Lex could enter the building, his security led him to the one area that had been touched: a lab with a now shattered lead glass case. Where it had once held Kryptonite, two pieces of the ore that was key to defeating Superman, it now held only a batarang, which impaled the bottom of the case. This would complicate things—it seemed that Batman and Superman were in league. Most likely, the Wonder Woman from the Second World War was involved as well—she had been at his gala with Clark Kent, though later she was seen in the company of Bruce Wayne. Without the Kryptonite, this trinity of enemies would be a far more serious challenge, though he was certain that his plan could overcome them.

Luthor and Mercy took an elevator to the lowest level of the building, ten stories below ground. There was just one lab on the bottom level, one large room containing a sole specimen and a team of scientists. Luthor looked down at the sarcophagus, which held the specimen. It was a fabric wrapped, with tubes going into and out of it. Some had questioned not using a stronger material, but the specimen within could break even the strongest man made materials, and was the one thing that could take on Superman. Batman and Wonder Woman would be quick work for the specimen by themselves, but if they fought with Superman against it, then they could prove a distraction that could tip the balance.

It mattered not. Without Kryptonite, Superman could not be weakened, so Wonder Woman would need to be taken out of the equation first. With her out of the way, the Batman would not be a factor.

"Doomsday must be accelerated," he said to Mercy. "It happens this week."

* * *

Lois and Clark arrived at the Daily Planet in the morning, having awakened on the sofa, Lois wrapped in Clark's arms. She had not spent the night on her sofa in ages, but for some reason, she awoke rested and in good spirits. Clark kissed her, saying, "I'm off to Starbucks for your latte."

She kissed him back. "Thanks Clark; you're the best!"

Lois saw Cat freeze in place at the sight of them, causing the gossip columnist to drop her own cup of coffee. Lois smiled smugly. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Clark smiled and waved at Cat and the rest of the staring newsroom, and then kissed Lois passionately. Lois relaxed in his arms, savoring the moment.

"I love you," he said softly as their lips parted.

"I love you too, Clark," she replied.

A round of applause went up, Perry clapping and smiling. "Now that's a scene fit for the King! Now get back to work, everyone!"

Clark stepped into the elevator, waving to Lois as the doors closed. Lois blew him a kiss, and then went to her desk, where an envelope with a Bat symbol on it awaited her. She opened it, and inside was a floppy disc and a note, saying that the disc contained some of the information from LexCorp's computers, and that she could name the vigilante as the source. _If Clark Kent is Superman_ , she thought, _then after all this, there's only one other conclusion I can reach: Bruce Wayne is Batman._ She imagined this was the secret Clark had alluded to earlier. Lois put the disc into her computer and began perusing it, her eyes widening as she read.

Lois could hardly believe the data that Bruce had obtained from LexCorp's computers, and what he had shared with her was only a fraction of what was on the drive. Bruce's note said that there was worse, and he promised to deliver more, but what he had delivered thus far was damning. It seemed that LexCorp really was behind the D.F.A. Gang's equipment, and indeed, behind the gang itself. Luthor was also behind the rash of fires over in the Simon Project, information that Clark could use in his next article on the arson story.

The information about Luthor buying, bribing, or strong-arming politicians, dealings with rogue nations, terrorist groups, and arms dealers, and having people who stood in his way killed, was enough to put him behind bars for several lifetimes, and likely enough to have him convicted of treason. It seemed that it was truly Luthor's doomsday, not Superman's. Except that Luthor had made the threat publicly, and if Lois knew anything, it was that Luthor never bluffed when he made threats. If Luthor had promised retribution, he would deliver … but how do you take retribution on a man who cannot be injured, let alone killed?

The obvious answer was to go after those close to him, and it was public knowledge that Lois was important to Superman on some level. The thought sent a shudder through her, but she shrugged it off. Lois Lane had been taking on Luthor long before Clark and his alter ego arrived on the scene, and she would continue to do so. She was just glad that Clark could keep up.

* * *

As Lucy slept, Bruce finished his spectra-analysis of the two pieces of ore, and determined that it did indeed emit a high band radiation. Contrary to Luthor's belief, it was harmful to humans as well; the results were simply not immediately obvious. Luthor's research on an unnamed specimen indicated that short-term exposure seemed to have no cumulative effects. Suddenly, the ore, called Kryptonite, was not the main concern: the fact that Luthor had a specimen that could tell him anything about it, and the fact that he knew about Krypton at all, was the real threat. Whatever it was that Luthor had locked away, it was likely as powerful as Clark, and Clark was completely unprepared to face anything at his own power level.

Bruce closed the analyzer, which folded into a brief case, and placed the two chunks of rock into a lead lined flight case. He walked back to the bedroom, thinking about what he would do next. Clark needed to face something that would truly challenge him, or it really would be his doomsday, and the only one who could challenge Clark in such a way as to make him better was Bruce. _He'll hate me for it_ , Bruce thought, _but if I don't do it, he's dead_. He hoped that his friend would understand.


	9. Chapter 9

**Batman v Superman**

The weekend had gone by in a blur, and Bruce hated that it was ending. After years of dating starlets, socialites, and supermodels, he had finally met a girl that could truly mean something to him. Lucy was about five years younger than he was, and possessed of a carefree, fun loving personality. She was sweet, but forthright, and though not as educated as her older sister, Lucy was smart. The two of them had carried on about the ramifications of the recent U.S. deployment of troops in Bosnia, and about the chances of Clinton winning a second term in 1996. Stimulating, intelligent, and without affectation. Lucy had not come from wealth, and had not lived in the isolated world of the wealthiest one percent of the nation. _No_ , Bruce thought. _She's a real woman_.

"Why so glum?" Lucy's hands began massaging his shoulders. "My god, you're all bunched up! What's wrong?"

"The weekend is ending, and there are things I need to do—things that will take me away from you. Things that may cost me a close friend."

Lucy stopped rubbing his back and sat next to him on the bed. "This doesn't have to do with Clark, does it?"

"Yes, it does. It's for his own good, and I think he'll understand … but he'll probably hate me for it, or at least become distant and aloof. I don't want that, but if I don't do this, he'll suffer for it. I'd rather lose him as a friend than see that."

"Wow," she exclaimed. "I don't know what to make of that. What is this thing you need to do?"

"It involves a confidence between him and me, so I can't give you details, but I will have to take advantage of that knowledge. If I'm successful, he'll be a better man for it. It might even make him a better man for Lois, though she'll probably hate me more than he will."

"You know Lois, Bruce; once you're on her bad side, there's almost no getting back to her good side. To this day, she barely speaks to our dad. I'm hoping that Clark might be able to get through to her on that."

"You said your family was religious, Lucy."

"We go to church, or at least we did when we were kids. My parents still go, and I still go, but not regularly. Don't know about Lois."

"Pray for me, and pray for Clark."

"Bruce, you make this sound like one of you is going to die!"

He stood and looked down at her, knowing that she was right. Bruce leaned down and kissed her. "Just pray. When this is all over, I might be able to tell you everything, but trust me—it's better right now that I don't."

* * *

 **Back in Metropolis ...**

Clark took Lois to his own apartment, cooking dinner for the two of them. Lois was no cook, but based on what it smelled like, she deduced that Clark was. She marveled at how he handled hot pots and pans with no potholders. His cookware was old too; metal handles with no plastic insulator. She winced at the thought of how badly those pots would burn her hands if she did the same. Clark caught her looking, and smiled.

"You're going to love this Lois."

"It smells delicious," she said approvingly. "But Clark, there's something else I want to talk to you about. The Batman sent me a diskette containing data from Luthor's computer today, but the note was all in reference to Bruce's getting the data from Luthor's computer. I put a few things together, and can come to only one conclusion: Bruce Wayne is Batman." Clark nodded, but said nothing. "That's good enough; I know you don't want to break confidence, and I won't say a word. However, Batman said that we could cite him as the source. There's information about the arsons you've been chasing down in the Simon Project—turns out Luthor's behind it all." She removed a floppy disk from her purse and placed it on the table. "I made a copy for you. He said there's more to come, and all of it's worse."

"How bad?"

"Everything I suspected him of doing, and things I would _never_ have suspected him of doing."

Clark nodded. "You knew all along what kind of man he is, and most people didn't believe you. Now, it's out there. Now they _have_ to believe you."

She smiled at him with appreciation. " _You_ believed me, Clark. You believed in me. So did Perry, but I'm not having dinner with him."

Clark put the food onto plates: a southwestern steak salad. She looked at the food and inhaled the aroma of the steak. It was heavenly. And with a salad, she could stuff herself without any regrets.

"Yeah, that would be weird," Clark agreed.

"Clark, what I wanted to tell you was this: you should share the information about the Simon Project with Mayson Drake."

Clark raised an eyebrow at this. "Okay. I can go along with that, but why her? You hate Mayson Drake."

"Because as much as I don't like her, she's one of those incorruptible people that never lost her idealism after years in the criminal justice system. Give her a chance to take action. And tell her before the papers hit tomorrow morning—it'll indebt her to us, and that could be useful in the future."

He shrugged. "You're the boss, Lois."

She giggled, and then kissed him. "Glad you still think so."

* * *

 **The office of the ADA ...**

Mayson Drake been working late. It had been a busy day, and from the headlines, it seemed that things were only going to get worse. Luthor had gone to jail, however briefly, and the entire city was in a panic over it. The man employed hundreds, no, thousands. If LexCorp could not weather the scandal, it would mean hard times, and that always meant more crime. A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened, and who should step in, but Clark Kent. "Mister Kent," she said, smiling in spite of herself. "What brings the Daily Planet's star rookie to my humble office?"

"Ms. Drake, I have information for you. Lois and I agreed that you should have it before the papers hit the street tomorrow. It's big."

"You're sharing this with me … _before_ you print it?"

"It's the right thing to do." He placed an envelope on her desk. "Lex Luthor is behind the arsons, Ms. Drake. It's all here. Thank Superman and Batman—I'm just the messenger."

She picked up the envelope, and opened it, revealing a three and a half inch floppy disc. "Clark, I … I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything—just do what you do best, Ms. Drake. Just … be careful. Luthor plays rough, and I wouldn't want to see anything happen to you."

"Ah, come on Clark; you and I take on goons like Luthor every day. It's part of the job. So … what are you doing now?"

"Filing my story, and then meeting Lois."

Her heart sank at that. Mayson had hoped that maybe Clark was single, but no such luck. "I hope it's a Pulitzer winner, Clark."

"Good night, Ms. Drake," he said as he left.

As soon as the door closed, she removed the disc and went to her desk, turning on her computer. As the machine booted up, she heated up a cup of water in her microwave, and made herself some instant cocoa. The hot drink was ready just as the computer finished booting up. Mayson inserted the disc, and began perusing the contents. Her eyes widened at what she saw. Clark was right. This _was_ big.

As soon as he left the building, Clark's pager went off. It was Bruce. He took out his cell phone and called his friend right away.

" _Clark_ ," came Bruce's voice. "I need your help."

"Anytime. What's going on?"

" _If you and I don't intervene, a life will be lost. Meet me on the rooftop of the old Grand Hotel in Gotham, and I'll get you up to speed_."

"On my way," Clark assured as Bruce ended the call. He located a phone booth, and stepped inside, stepping back out less than a second later as Superman. He quickly tucked his street clothes into the saddlebags of his bike and hoped it would not be towed as he flew to meet Bruce in Gotham.

* * *

 **Gotham City**

Superman landed at the place Bruce had told him. A life was at stake, and the two of them were the only ones who could save it. He just wondered why Bruce had not simply told him where the person was; it would have been much faster, but he figured Bruce had his reasons. This part of Gotham looked like a warzone. There were no people around; just burned out and abandoned buildings. It was a part of the city that had simply been abandoned. The only person immediately visible was the Batman, standing on the rooftop of an old, gothic building. The once grand hotel was now just an empty shell, with Batman as its lone gargoyle.

Except that Batman wore a suit of powered armor. It was balky, like a medieval version of his Batsuit made into armor. The helmet was connected to the collar, like an old diving helmet, but the mouth area was open, and the helmet itself was shaped like Bruce's cowl. The eyes were glowing, which meant that there was no eye-slits, but a H.U.D. instead. The suit was bristling with weapons.

"Bruce, what's going on? Is the D.F.A. Gang involved?" It was the only reason Clark could think of for Bruce to be armored up as he was.

"No," the Bat replied ominously. "You told me that when you were in that lab, that you felt like your head was buzzing, and you got a headache."

"Yeah, it was weird, but—I'm kind of getting that feeling now."

"Yes, Clark. The radiation from that rock is the cause. Luthor figured it out. He knows more about you and Diana than either of us could have guessed. He's played us for fools, Clark."

"But now that we know, we can turn the tables," Clark replied.

"Normally, Clark, but there's a lesson you need to learn, and I'd rather you learn it from me than from Lex Luthor."

"Lesson?" Clark was just confused now, though he was convinced that Bruce had some piece of that rock squirreled away in his armor.

"You're not a man; you're a god," Bruce explained. "But the gods gain their greatest insight into humanity when they subject themselves to human weakness. You grew up in a Christian household, Clark, so I'd imagine you'd have some insight."

"I'm no god, Bruce."

"Clark, I thought I had tested you enough, but I realized that there's one test, one trial that you've never faced."

"And what's that?" Clark wanted to speed this along; a life was on the line.

"Striving, overcoming fear, death, and despair, to save a life. To that end …"

Bruce activated the bat symbol on the suit's chest-plate, and it lit up with a bright, greenish light. Clark felt waves of dizziness and pain. It was as if every nerve was on fire, and his strength was leaving him. Clark fell to his knees, holding his head.

"What—have you done?"

"An innocent life is at stake, Clark," Bruce continued. "Unless you can beat me, that person will die, the victim of a bomb strapped to their chest. You _must_ beat me. You _must_ fight through the pain, Clark. You must strive as you've _never_ striven before. And you must do this within the next five minutes, or the bomb will go off, killing them."

Clark focused all his concentration on Bruce's heartbeat and breathing, and was convinced that Bruce was not lying.

"I thought you were my friend, Bruce," Clark managed to say. "I thought you were a man who wanted justice! This is not justice! To put an innocent in danger …"

"No, it's not the good thing, Clark, but sometimes the good thing is not the _necessary_ thing. Now, on your feet!"

The Batman leveled a kick at the prone Clark's face, and even through the suit, even in Clark's weakened condition, Bruce could feel the mass and solidity of Clark's Kryptonian body. He had no idea the rock would weaken his friend so much or so rapidly. This might have been too much, but weakened as he was Clark Kent was still a man of steel. The kick, however, sent Clark flying, and actually drew blood. Kent landed five feet away, on his back, blood coming from his mouth and nose.

Thankfully, the Superman rose to his feet, and almost before Bruce could react, Clark was on him, leveling a punch that Bruce was certain was still pulled so as to bruise, rather than kill. Bruce got an arm up just in time and parried the blow, a look of astonishment on Clark's face. The shock from the parried blow reverberated through the suit, rattling Bruce's teeth. _At this range, if he sneezes, and I'm a dead man_ , he thought. But Bruce did not let his faltering confidence show.

"That's the feeling of fear, Clark." Bruce activated one of the guns mounted on the right arm, firing a powerful sonic pulse at Superman, knocking the weakened Kryptonian from his feet, and back into the building's skylight. He thought Clark might go through, but he did not. Bruce leapt, the suit's power giving distance to his jump, and landed on Clark, driving him through the skylight, and taking him down several floors, crashing through wood and concrete, until their momentum had been slowed enough for them to come to rest on a marble floor. They were in the lobby of what had once been a grand hotel. This fight between a demigod and a hero would likely demolish the building.

Batman had turned off the energy radiator; it had already depleted the suit's power to below fifty percent. He took advantage of his opponent's weakness and began pummeling him about the face and head. As he punched and punched, he noticed that not only was Clark not going out, but the blows were affecting him less and less. Bruce's last punch shattered the gauntlet, and bare knuckles struck Clark's invulnerable jaw, propelled by the motors and servos of the suit. He heard the bones of his hand break as the blow landed, and instinctively reared back.

With powerful palm heel strike to Bruce's solar plexus, Superman sent him flying through two walls, and into a large column in a ballroom on the other side of the second. Bruce was groggy; the suit kept his skull from exploding like a watermelon, but it did not prevent a concussion. And now, Superman was lumbering toward him, stepping through the holes Bruce had made when going through the walls. _The suit is certainly proving its toughness_ , he thought as Clark stepped through the last hole.

"I don't know what you're trying to prove, Bruce, but this needs to end—now! Just tell me where the person is. I can stop this before it's too late!"

Bruce fired a grenade at Clark, which the man of steel easily caught, only to have it explode, showering him with the weaponized Kryptonite dust. Inadvertently breathing it in, Clark was coughing and gagging on the floor.

"That's despair, Clark. Breathe it in. This is what I felt as I watched my parents die. Time was running out for them—and there was nothing I could do." Bruce then turned on the radiator again. Sadly, he feared this could be over soon—for both of them.

Clark turned and looked at him, desperation in his eyes. Then anger flared, and Clark somehow gathered enough power to launch himself at Bruce. It was a powerful blow that took Bruce from his feet, and tore a piece of the mask away, uncovering the left side of his face. Bruce slid on the ground, landing not far from Superman, who still coughed and gagged on the Kryptonite dust. the impact cracked the chest piece, and at its maximum setting no less. With the energy radiator on at full, Clark would soon be dead. Bruce tried to deactivate it, but to no avail; the controls were dead. He tried to get up, but the suit's motors were burned out, and he could not move. Unable to doff the suit without mechanical help, he could not get up and remove himself from Clark's proximity. He was going to kill his best friend, and he felt his eyes misting over.

"I'm sorry, Clark," he called out. "I've failed you. It was not supposed to end like this."

To his surprise, Clark responded. "Tell me—where is the innocent?" Clark's voice was a croak barely louder than a whisper. "If I can get up …"

"There's no time," Bruce lamented. "It's in my chest-plate, Clark; right below the energy radiator. Thirty more seconds, and we're done. If you have anything left, get out of the room. You'll probably survive."

Bruce closed his eyes, accepting that an unavoidable death was coming. The least he could do is face it with dignity—it was of his own making, after all. At least he would see his parents again, though he dreaded facing them with Clark's death on his hands.

He felt a scratching at his chest-plate, and opened his eyes, only to see Clark pulling at it. He could not believe it; Clark was taking the full brunt of the radiation, but still, he worked to save Bruce.

"If you've got that much left, get out of here! Save yourself!"

"I won't let you die, Bruce," Clark gasped as dug his fingers into the plate. "But you and I—we're having a _serious_ talk about this later."

With that, Clark tore the chest-plate loose, bomb, radiator and all, and flung it to the west wall, grabbing Bruce, and rolling him in the opposite direction, and laying across him. The bomb went off, destroying the radiator, and Bruce had survived. Clark had done it. He strove with every ounce of his being and saved an innocent life. With the disaster averted, Clark rolled off of him, the two men staring up at the ceiling of the ballroom.

"That it?" Clark's voice was a whisper, but it sounded a little better.

"Yes," Bruce said softly.

"Good—I haven't anything left. I could use—some of Alfred's coffee."

"I've sent the signal. He's on his way."

"Good," Clark replied. "See you on the other side."

With that, Clark passed out. Bruce smiled, pleased that his friend had proven to be every bit the hero Bruce believed him to be, and then some. Clark had passed the final test; he risked his life to save the man who had instigated the conflict. Bruce could hear him breathing raggedly. _Not dead_ , he thought. _Good_. Bruce closed his eyes, and blackness overtook him.

* * *

 **The following morning ...**

Bruce could hear voices, though they were distorted, and he could not make them out. One was Alfred, that much he knew. He listened, and he realized the other was Clark. He felt a comfortable mattress beneath him, and opened his eyes. He was back at Wayne Manor. Alfred and Clark were in the room, and Bruce felt like he had been hit by a truck. _I'll be feeling this for the next two months_ , he thought. _But it was worth it_.

"Clark," he called weakly.

"Bruce," Clark said curtly.

"You did it, Clark. You now know what it means to be truly human. I know it wasn't easy …"

"Wasn't easy?" Clark's voice raised sharply. "Bruce, that rock almost killed me, and you almost got blown to smithereens! What were you thinking?"

Bruce chuckled. "It was the only way, Clark. Luthor would have taught you that lesson, and you would have died, taking it to your grave. I stole the rock from him. He calls it Kryptonite; apparently, it's from your home planet. The radiation would be harmless to you had you not adjusted to Earth's atmosphere, _and_ had your father not altered your genetics."

"Altered my genetics …?"

Bruce nodded. "It's how you were able to adapt to Earth's atmosphere. You would have died here otherwise."

"I know about that," Clark reminded him. "But how did _you_ know? I've never mentioned it."

"It was in Luthor's drive. I got all the Kryptonite, but he's figured out a way to synthesize it. Doesn't pack the punch the real thing does, but it'll hurt coming from those powered suits of Luthor's lackeys."

"How did he know? Does he know who I am?"

"No, but he has a specimen that he tested it on, which means only one thing …"

"Another Kryptonian," Clark finished, Bruce nodding.

"Why did you think that was the only way, Master Bruce?" Alfred's tone was filled with disapproval.

"Clark has never lost. He needed to be put into a situation with everything on the line and his power taken from him. It had to be real; Clark, you would have seen through me if I'd been lying. I had to place an innocent in jeopardy, and it had to be someone you did not know. You'll face a being with your powers, and Luthor may also deploy his synthesized Kryptonite. Unless you've had to fight against an equal, unless you've truly had to face death, you won't stand a chance." Bruce smiled. "You're the one, Clark. You're the hero we need, not the hero we deserve."

Clark raised an eyebrow at that, then stood, draining the coffee. "I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, Bruce, but I'm glad you think so."

"Oh, I had your bike picked up and taken to your apartment," Bruce informed. "Didn't want you to have to pay towing and impound fees after what I put you through."

"Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate that."

"What about the Kryptonite?" Alfred asked.

"Take it, Clark," Bruce ordered. "It's in a lead lined box. Hurl it into the sun. Get it out of here."

"No, Bruce," Clark replied, shaking his head. "I once told Lois that Superman's power needs to be checked by the press, just as humans in positions of power need to be. But Mayson Drake was also right when she said that Superman's power has no physical check. I can't be arrested or taken down by the military." Clark laughed. "This is going to sound crazy after what you just did, Bruce, but you're the only one I trust to hold that power. Keep it. If I ever lose my way, use it to turn me back. And if I can't be turned back, then use it to save humanity from a Superman gone off the rails."

"Power corrupts," Alfred stated. "And absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"You have my word, Clark. It'll be a failsafe, just in case. And if I ever get out of hand, take me out; nuke me from orbit with that laser vision of yours."

Alfred chuckled. "As much as I could strangle you right now, Master Bruce, I think it's safe to say that neither of you will ever need such measures. It's far more likely that your own stupidity will get you killed before we ever have to worry about checking you."

Bruce looked at Clark, a smile slowly coming to their faces, until they both burst out laughing. Alfred threw his hands in the air. "Honestly!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Unite the Team**

Alfred picked up Lucy Lane and brought to Wayne Manor in the Rolls. She had not heard from Bruce in two days, and thought maybe he had dumped her, but Alfred assured that this was not the case. He alluded to Bruce having suffered injury, and based on what Bruce had said three days ago, wondered if Clark had beat him up. Kent was a large, powerful man, far different when she saw him than what Lois had described. Instead of a slouching, mild mannered guy, Kent was tall and commanding, and had shoulders like a linebacker. Bruce was in great shape, and a trained martial artist, but there was something about Kent that made her question whether Bruce could withstand the Planet's star rookie.

The Rolls brought Lucy to stately Wayne Manor, which to Lucy, looked more like a castle. The sprawling mansion was massive, its gothic architecture and towers making it look like it belonged in another time, and perhaps to a more sinister resident. The car stopped at the front of the house, just as Bruce was coming out through the front door, arms wide.

"Lucy," he called as she alighted from the car.

"Bruce!" Indeed, Bruce looked like a truck had hit him. His left eye, and indeed, the whole left side of his face, was swollen, as though he had either been hit very hard, or multiple times. She embraced him, and felt him wince as she squeezed. "What the hell happened to you? Clark didn't …"

"No, no," he said laughing. "Thanks for your support, by the way—it all went well with him, better than I had expected. In fact, it was Clark who pulled me out."

"Pulled you out?"

"Yes, Miss Lane," Alfred said. "There's apparently an old well on the grounds, covered by boards that were covered over by dirt. Bruce fell into it when he stepped on it by accident."

"Boards gave way," Bruce continued. "I think I fell like fifty feet, and banged my head pretty hard on the way down. Clark just happened to arrive about five minutes after."

"So … you two are still friends?"

"Better than ever, in fact."

"Thank goodness for that," Lucy sighed.

"Swelling should go down over the next day or two," Bruce explained. "So if you don't mind being with a guy who looks like he went a few rounds with Superman, I'd like to take you to my Chalet in Alaska. I figured that with it being such a hot August, a little arctic blast might be nice."

"Oh, Bruce! I'd love to!"

Alfred sighed with relief. "I trust he'll be more careful in your company, Miss Lane. Please; keep him out of trouble."

"You have my word, Alfred," she promised. "Oh, and please, call me Lucy—or Miss Lucy if you must; the only Miss Lane in Metropolis is Lois."

"Not for much longer if things keep going well with Clark," Bruce said with a chuckle. "And who knows? Perhaps there's a name change in your future as well."

Lucy blushed at the implication, but smiled. Marrying Bruce would be a dream come true, even if he were not a billionaire. "Mmm, I think I could get behind that."

"Dare him a while longer," Alfred advised. "If he hasn't scared you off in a year, then you'll do fine."

Bruce and Lucy laughed, and Alfred cracked a smile and laughed with them. Something told Lucy that a lot more had happened than just a simple fall, but she decided not to pry. Like Clark, there was a lot more to Bruce than met the eye. She had a feeling that it was a good something, but she imagined it was complicated.

* * *

"He's lucky he didn't do any permanent damage to you, Clark, or I would have killed him!"

Clark was still recuperating, lounging on the sofa in his apartment as Lois paced back and forth, still livid about Bruce's stunt with the Kryptonite. It was the first time she had ever seen Clark physically injured, or even in discomfort, though the bruises and cuts on Clark's face had healed in less than twenty-four hours, and he was back to his usual, locomotive stopping self within forty-eight hours.

"As the saying goes, you should see the other guy," Clark joked. "Bruce didn't wake up for hours, and was pretty much bedridden for a couple of days. He's taking Lucy to Alaska for a weekend of relaxation."

"How'd that moron explain his face to her?"

"Fell into a well on Wayne Manor. Credited me with saving him."

"Least he could do. If she knew the truth …"

"Well, it actually is the truth, Lois. He _did_ fall through boards into the caves below, and I _did_ save him. We were eleven, but still."

"And you did save him from the bomb he strapped to his chest," Lois noted. "But what was he trying to prove? And why on Earth did you let him keep that Kryptonite after he offered to let you destroy it?"

Clark became very serious. "Lois, if anything ever happens, if I ever become … not the man I am now, I needed someone I can trust to have a means of stopping me. No power should be unchecked, especially power as great as mine."

Lois flounced onto Clark's bed, sighing loudly, and blowing her bangs into the air in the process. "I suppose you're right." Then she started bouncing on the bed. "Say, Clark, this is comfy!" He raised an eyebrow, but Lois threw a pillow at him.

"Lois …"

She threw another pillow at him, and stuck out her tongue. "Make me stop."

"Alright, Lois, but remember, you asked for it."

Lois soon regretted starting this one, as Clark was on her before she could see him move, tickling her mercilessly. "Mercy, mercy! I'll stop," she cried, laughing so hard that tears fell from her eyes. Clark stopped, and she just giggled breathlessly. "I love you, Clark. You can do more than just tickle me, you know."

He gently lifted her from the bed, and carried her to the living room. "Can't stay in there," he said. "You're far too tempting."

"Ooh, a wait till marriage guy," she cooed. "You really are old fashioned."

He laid her on the sofa, where she sat upright as Clark joined her. "I wanted to save that for the right girl, Lois," he explained. "I've finally met the right girl. Let's take things slow, and do it right. If things work out between us, and I think they will, then let's make our wedding night that much more special. Believe me, Lois, you're worth waiting for." He kissed her lips gently.

"Oh, Clark," she half said, half cried. "You're so sweet!" Then Lois's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute—does that mean that you've never …"

"Yes, it does mean that."

She smiled and leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I think you're a very special man, Clark. You're the one I've been waiting for all my life. I just didn't know it."

He enfolded her in his arms, and held her. Lois found that with Clark, she did not need to fill the silence with words. She relaxed, resting in the arms of the man she loved.

* * *

Lex Luthor did not know whether to laugh or to cry. The Joker had proven inadequate in dealing with the Batman, and had been left gagged and hogtied in an elevator by the Dark Knight. It made Luthor wonder how the Clown Prince of Crime had remained such a thorn in Batman's side. Against Superman, the Joker was less than useless, but he could help to lure both the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel into the trap. Luthor had two final tasks for the psychopath: kidnap Barbara Gordon and Lois Lane. Having dispatched the Joker to take obtain Lois and Barbara, Lex focused on his Doomsday project. Without Kryptonite, this could end up backfiring on him, but it was the only card he had left to play against Superman.

"Mercy, I'm going to the basement lab to activate the Doomsday Project. I am not to be disturbed."

"Mister Luthor," she implored, "are you certain you want to do this?"

"Are you questioning me, Mercy?"

Anger flashed in her eyes at his questioning of her loyalty. "Sir, I have been more loyal to you than anyone, and I have asked for nothing in return. I ask you this out of loyalty to you. This action you are undertaking, I have a bad feeling about it. You pay me to protect you, and I would be derelict in my duty if I did not say something to you."

Lex nodded, opting to deal with her insubordination later. "You are right of course, Mercy. Yes, I am certain. Now, see to it that I am not disturbed."

"As you wish, sir."

* * *

 **Gotham City**

Barbara Gordon had just stepped off the school bus and was walking home when she realized that she a car was following her. She began to walk faster, but the car sped up, keeping pace with her. The window rolled down, and she saw the Joker pointing some kind of gun at her.

"Hello, Babs. Get in the car and you won't be hurt."

She knew better: never get in the car. She tried to run, hoping that her assailants would not risk firing at her with people around, as was the middle of the day, and she was not the only pedestrian. The gun fired, but not with the usual 'bang.' Instead, she heard an electric 'pop,' and was struck in the back by two projectiles. As soon as the projectiles made contact with her, electricity surged through her body, and she fell to the sidewalk. Semi-conscious, she was aware of two men hurriedly grabbing her, and throwing her into the back seat of the car. Once inside, the Joker leered at her.

"It's Batman's birthday, and I needed the perfect present. Lucky day, Babs! That present … is you!" With that, he pressed a wet cloth over her mouth and nose, the sweet smell filling her nostrils and mouth. Chloroform. Barbara lost consciousness as the car drove off.

* * *

As Lois went to work, Clark took a day off to return to Smallville. With the revelation that Luthor had a Kryptonian specimen, Clark could only arrive at two conclusions: either he had obtained something Kryptonian belonging to Clark, or he had another Kryptonian. Clark did not know which was worse.

His father was working on the old tractor, and his mother was on the porch sipping sweet tea, but she jumped up as he landed.

"Land sakes! Clark!" Ma Kent ran out to meet her son, as her husband stood and hugged him

"Son, you came along at just the right time. I could use a little help with …"

Clark hugged his mother, and the before Jonathan Kent could finish his sentence, the Man of Steel used his vision powers, super speed, and super strength to diagnose and repair the old tractor. "There, Pa," he said. "She should start right up."

Jonathan tried the ignition, and true to Clark's word, the tractor turned over, and ran smoothly. "How did you …"

"No time for that, Pa," Clark protested. "Can't be seen in my super-duds. Both of you, come with me."

Clark led them into the barn, and examined the wooden floor. There was no sign of tampering with the false floor, but he opened it anyway. Inside the lead lined chamber beneath was a trailer sized shipping container. He looked through the steel of the container and discerned that nothing had been disturbed. Replacing the floor, he turned to his mother.

"Ma, has any of my childhood things gone missing? Or did you sell any of it off?"

"Land sakes, Clark, you know I'd never do such a thing!" She was visibly hurt at the implied accusation.

"Clark, you know your mother treasures that stuff. She accumulates a lot of junk that I wish she _would_ sell, but not that!"

"You misunderstand," Clark explained. "My assumption is no, but I needed to ask just to make certain. Bruce and I believe that Lex Luthor has a Kryptonian specimen in his possession."

"Clark, how is this possible?" His mother went from hurt pride to worry in an instant.

"We don't know," Clark explained. "If I'm the only Kryptonian to survive my birth world's destruction, then the only way he could have a specimen is to have gotten his hands on something of mine that I had left traces of DNA on. My first thought was that he had somehow gotten a hold of the ship that brought me here, but it's safe and sound, and there's no evidence of anyone tampering with it."

"Would he even think to look here?" Pa Kent asked.

"We don't believe he knows Superman's identity," Clark replied. "But I wanted to cover all the bases. He stole that rock Wayne Irig sold to the Metropolis Museum, so I thought he might have made the connection that way. And Mom, if you donated old clothes to charity, I would be fine with that, but I didn't think you had. I just needed to make sure that this was a dead end lead."

Pa Kent shook his head. "What would someone like Luthor do with a Kryptonian?"

"Who knows?" Clark sighed. "Knowing him, anything's possible. I need to go, but when this is all over, there's a very special lady I need you both to meet."

"Lois," Ma Kent exclaimed. "It's gotta be Lois!"

"Now, Martha, we don't know …"

"Mom's right, Pa," he confirmed with a grin. "It is Lois. Oh, and Bruce has been dating her sister, Lucy."

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Ma Kent hugged Clark. "I'm so happy for both of you. How is Bruce doing, by the way?"

"And what does he have to do with knowing about Lex having a Kryptonian?" Jonathan Kent asked.

"Long story," Clark said. "In short, he did a bit of digging for me. Don't ask me how he got the info, but he did, and I trust it. Recent events indicate that Luthor is going to do something drastic with this specimen he has on hand, so I was trying to figure out what I'm dealing with—is it a clone of me, or something else?"

Martha and Jonathan Kent looked at each other, visibly worried, and then looked back at Clark expectantly. He knew that they wanted him to give them some kind of direction on how they could help him, but he could not. Clark's issues were beyond his parents' ability to affect. All he could do was return to Metropolis and deal with the problem as it manifested.

* * *

While Clark investigated his childhood home, Lois was driving her Jeep to the Daily Planet. It did not take long for her to realize that the car behind her was tailing her. She took a few quick turns down side streets that she was certain did not dead end, just to be certain, and in every case, the beige Toyota Camry continued to follow her. Another quick turn to get back to the main road resulted in her being stopped by road construction. Lois honked, then pounded the dash. "Unbelievable!"

The Camry stopped, and out of the left rear door stepped a man in a ski mask. Taser in his hand. Lois put the Jeep into four-wheel drive, and shifted into reverse, slamming into the Camry, plumes of smoke coming from the cracked radiator, as Lois shifted into drive, and drove the Jeep around the edge of the construction, honking her horn as terrified construction workers scrambled to get out of her way. Unfortunately, a dump truck was moving into her path just as she was getting started. She honked her horn furiously, but the driver of the dump truck flipped her off, as the rest of the road crew was shouting at her.

"It's the Joker," she shouted at them. "Do something!" Lois then dialed 911 on her cell phone. She tried to back up, but the driver of the Camry had pulled the smoking car in behind her, preventing escape. As she waited for the call to connect, the Joker drew a large pistol and shot the workers dead. "Oh my god," she cried, horrified at the loss of life. Joker walked over and fired into the window of the dump truck, killing the driver, and then pointed the pistol at Lois.

"Don't make me put holes in that pretty little head of yours, Miss Lane," the Joker said evilly. "Lex Luthor would like to see you."

"Lex Luthor?" Now she was puzzled. "Why send a psychopathic clown with mommy issues? All he had to do was offer me an exclusive post-jailhouse interview."

"I do NOT have mommy issues," the Joker shouted, pistol whipping her, and then dragging her out of the Jeep. Joker's goons grabbed her and pinned her hands behind her back, wrapping her wrists in duct tape. She heard the sound of the Taser, and her body went rigid as the electrical current went through her. She was vaguely aware of them putting her in the back of her Jeep, taping her ankles and placing a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Joker slipped a burlap bag over her head and cinched the drawstring at her neck. "Just had to do it the hard way, didn't you, Miss Lane?' Joker asked with exasperation.

She heard the closing the hatch, and then felt the movement of the Jeep. Clark was far away in Smallville, and even if he were not, she could not call out to him. Bruce was away with her sister, so he would not be helping either. Lois knew that Luthor would kill her before this was over, most likely having the Joker do the deed. She only hoped that Clark would figure out what had happened before it was too late.

* * *

Clark arrived at the Daily Planet, Lois' latte in hand. Perry was waiting at his desk. The editor's face was ashen. "Son, I don't know how to say this … I know you and Lois are seeing each other now … but Clark, I'm afraid Lois has been kidnapped … by the Joker.

"The Joker?" Clark knew that Joker had been working with Luthor, so that gave him a starting point. "He's usually a problem in Gotham. If he's here, it's no coincidence. I'm taking the afternoon off, Perry. I need to find Lois."

"You should leave this to the police, son …"

"The police are already involved, Perry—you wouldn't know otherwise. No, I won't leave her at that maniac's mercy. I'll find her—and when I do, I guarantee she'll have an exclusive!"

Clark did not even wait for Perry to answer him, instead hurrying back to the elevator. He would have gone to the storeroom and flown out the window, but there was no way he could do that with Perry watching. Once he was alone in the elevator, he drank the latte, and sprang through the elevator's ceiling maintenance hatch, and escaping to the rooftop, where he doffed his street clothes, revealing the familiar cape and tights of Superman. He placed his clothes in a lock box he had stowed on the roof, and flew directly to LexCorp Tower.

Scanning the building for signs of Lois, he found none, though with the number of lead lined rooms the tower contained, he imagined she could be in any one of them. If she was in the tower, the room was soundproofed—Clark could not hear her heartbeat.

"If he's hurt her," he said aloud, "I'll see to it that he never hurts anyone again."

For now, all he could do was look for her. He opted not to go crashing through LexCorp Tower, instead scanning the city, hoping that Joker had taken her to some abandoned warehouse or some other unprotected building.

* * *

The Bat Signal shown in the sky over Gotham City, but Batman was nowhere to be seen. Jim Gordon wrung his fists, feeling helpless to do anything about the Joker taking his daughter. Only Batman could help, but Batman was apparently off duty. _Tonight of all nights_ , he thought, shaking his head, tears in his eyes.

Detective Essen had kept vigil with him on the rooftop, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid he's not coming, Jim. I'm sorry."

"He has to come, Sarah! That's my little girl out there … he says he's my friend … but …" Jim had to face facts. Sarah was right. Batman was not coming. He was just about to turn of the signal, when Sarah gasped.

"Sweet Jesus."

Jim turned to see her looking upward, wordlessly pointing to the Man of Steel. Superman floated in the air, cape billowing in the breeze. Lit up by the light of the Bat Signal, the Man of Steel looked truly otherworldly. Jim had heard about how kind and inspiring Superman was, but the look on his face was one of fierce determination and anger. He had heard the stories; Superman was inhumanly powerful, and looking up at the man who could defy Earth's gravity, Jim Gordon could not help but feel small.

"I know the Joker kidnapped your daughter."

"Oh, god, Superman, you have no idea how glad I am to see you right now! Yes. He grabbed on her way home from school. Please! If you can do anything …"

"Batman and I are already looking for her," Superman informed. "We think he's taken her to Metropolis. He also kidnapped a Planet reporter, Lois Lane. We think he's working with Lex Luthor."

That explained why Batman had not responded. It seemed that Jim's vigilante friend had not forgotten him … but Lex Luthor? "Superman, why … Luthor?"

"We'll let you know if it turns out to be true." Superman's eyes flared red, a look of controlled rage on his face. Jim was terrified at the sight. "I promise you, Jim Gordon—I will find them—and when I do, there will be a reckoning."

The sonic boom knocked Jim and Sarah to the ground. When they looked up, Superman was gone.

* * *

 **Alaska ...**

"Lucy, I'm sorry, but we need to get back to Metropolis."

"Bruce, what's going on?" Lucy was puzzled. Bruce looked worried, an expression only made worse by his still bruised face.

"Lois was kidnapped by the Joker. So was Commissioner Gordon's daughter, Barbara."

"The Joker? Oh my god, Bruce, he'll kill them!"

"Or worse. Clark just called and informed me. We need to go to work. We need to find her."

Lucy did a double take. "Bruce, you're still injured, and what do you think you can do? It's the Joker! Let the cops deal with it! Or let Superman and Batman deal with it!" She wrapped her arms around him. "Please, don't do this."

Bruce kissed her forehead, and then lifted her chin. "Lucy, this relationship is the first real relationship I've had. I know how Clark feels when he looks at Lois. I feel the same way when I look at you. I want this to last, so I'm going to tell you the truth—I'm Batman."

At first, she thought he was making a really bad joke, but when she looked into his eyes, she could see that Bruce was dead serious. Suddenly, she made the connection. "Oh my god … Clark is Superman!"

"Yes, he is. And Barbara Gordon is the daughter of my friend, Commissioner Gordon. Clark and I have been investigating Luthor; it seems the Joker is working for him on this one. He has a Project Doomsday, something he thinks can kill Superman, and needless to say, me." He paused for a few moments, and then kissed her lips. "Lucy, if this scares you off, I won't blame you, but I don't want a relationship where I'm keeping secrets. I only ask that you keep this to yourself, especially Clark's secret."

"Scare me off? Bruce, I believe in you. If you're Batman, then you're a good man, the kind of man I won't let go of. Now, that monster has my sister. Let's get back so you and Clark can kick his ass!"

They packed up as quickly as they could; only taking necessities. When they got outside to the car, they found a red Ferrari waiting for them, a tall, athletic woman standing beside it wearing jeans, riding boots, what looked to be a strapless red top with a golden eagle emblazoned on it, and a leather Bolero jacket over it. Her long near black hair went almost to her waist. The woman was wondrously beautiful, and Lucy felt a pang of jealousy.

"Mister Wayne," the woman said in a Mediterranean accent. "Clark sent me to bring the two of you home. Meet me at the airfield—my jet is ready for takeoff."

"You have a jet?" Bruce smiled. "So, a coordinated air assault then?"

"Hardly," the woman replied. "It's a Learjet, not a fighter plane, and it has no stealth capability. Waste no more time, Mister Wayne. We must hurry." With that, she jumped into her car and drove off.

"Diana Prince," Bruce said absently. "She's got powers."

"Like Clark?"

"No one has powers like Clark," Bruce said. "But she's very powerful. Come on; don't want her to leave without us."

* * *

Lex Luthor looked down at the two stasis-pods, one containing Lois Lane, and one containing Barbara Gordon. He had placed them into a deathlike coma within the sound proofed pods, and kept them in a lead lined, sound proofed room. Superman would not hear their faint heartbeats, nor would he be able to see them. Now, it was time to make use of them.

"Mercy, awaken them. Have the Joker take Gordon to that abandoned school in the Simon Project, then take Lane to the roof. It's time she and I had words."

His bodyguard shot him a disapproving look, but she began the awakening sequence. "What about your other sleeping beauty?"

"I have a platoon of D.F.A. waiting in the lead lined wings. They have the latest hardsuits, and this time, Corben is leading them. All of them will have the synthesized Kryptonite powering their suits and weapons. I will only activate Doomsday if they fail. Once I get to the rooftop, go deal with the Prince woman. Your training should make you more than a match for her."

Mercy nodded, saying only, "Yes, sir."

* * *

Diana's jet touched down at Bruce's airfield at his insistence, Alfred waiting with a car for Lucy. As they disembarked, Superman landed. All three of them were assembled: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.

"Bruce, I need to find the Batman …"

"Don't worry, Clark," Bruce interjected. "Lucy knows. She figured you out on her own, but I told her I'm Batman."

"Please, rescue my sister, Superman," Lucy pled.

"I will, Lucy, I promise." Then he looked at Bruce. "I spoke to Jim. He knows we're on the case."

Clark looked angry, and Bruce could not decide if that was a good thing or not. He nodded, saying, "Thanks, Clark." Now, they actually had to make good on finding Lois and Barbara.

"Master Wayne," Alfred called. "The Bat Signal!"

Clark and Bruce looked, and it was clear as could be, cutting through the night sky. Except …

"It's coming from Metropolis," Bruce noted.

"The Simon Project, to be specific," Clark clarified. Then he looked for another moment, adding, "The abandoned high school on Perewitz Avenue. Gordon is there, as is the Joker and his goons."

Clark was about to fly off, but Bruce caught his arm. "No, Clark; the Joker is mine. Find Lois. I'll join you as soon as I can."

"Bruce Wayne," Diana said. "Did you locate anything else on that disc—besides Lex being dirty. As I said; he has something that I need to retrieve."

Bruce shook his head. "You couldn't ask me on the plane?"

"I was busy flying, as you might recall," Diana reminded him. "And you spent the entire trip in conversation with the junior Lane woman."

"You never told me what it was that he had," Bruce replied.

Diana looked down, her shoulders tense. Of the three of them, she was the only one to hold back information. Finally, she revealed what it was she was after. "He has taken one of my sisters."

"I thought he had a photograph," Clark noted.

"One of the Amazons," Bruce noted. "The photograph was the lure to bring you here."

"Yes," Diana said softly. "How did you know?"

"Remember, I saw what was on his drives before I told you about it," Bruce remarked. "And Luthor's not the only one who does his research."

Diana's cell phone rang, prompting her to answer it.

" _I'm in your hotel room, Princess_ ," the woman on the other end said. " _I have what you're looking for. Meet me there_." With that, the mystery woman terminated the call.

As soon as the call ended, Clark looked toward Metropolis. "I can hear Lois calling."

"Then we've all got our missions," Bruce declared. "Understand that he's splitting us up for a reason. Expect a trap."

Clark and Diana nodded, and then flew off. Bruce removed a remote from his pocket and depressed the button. A chirping sound was heard, followed by the sound of the Batmobile's powerful engine's starting. The car drove itself from behind the hangar, stopping in front of Bruce, its canopy open, and his gear inside. He kissed Lucy one last time.

"In case this goes south, I want you to know that I love you."

"Come back, Bruce. Kick that clown's ass, and then help Clark kick Luthor's ass. Then come back to me."

"I intend to do just that, Lucy. Now, go with Alfred, and get to safety. I have a feeling that we're going to see Superman actually fight, and in spite of his best efforts, there may still be civilian casualties."

Lucy nodded, and then kissed him one last time. "I love you, Bruce."

As Lucy got into the Rolls, Bruce began suiting up. It was time to go to work.


	11. Chapter 11

**Doomsday**

Lois was still groggy from being placed into a coma, and was shivering on the rooftop of LexCorp Tower. The rooftop was devoid of any others beside herself and Lex Luthor, who stood over her, glaring.

"Every day, you humiliate me in your paper, Lois Lane. You splashed photos of my arrest all over the front page, and you have been sharing ill-gotten information with the public, and with that ADA, Mayson Drake." He then snapped his fingers, and the door to the stairwell opened, and two of Luthor's henchmen stepped out, dragging a bound Mayson Drake. The assistant district attorney was bruised and bloody, and it looked to Lois as though they had tied her to a chair and beat her. Drake had that dazed look of someone who had suffered severe head trauma. One of the men held her in place, while the other removed a device from a holster on his belt that reminded Lois of a tricorder from Star Trek.

"Luthor, she needs medical attention!"

"No, Miss Lane, she does not." He motioned to his goons, who dragged Drake to the edge of the roof, and perched her on the ledge. "Call Superman, or they drop her."

Mayson, who seemed to have come to some realization of what was happening to her, looked pleadingly at Lois. She hated giving into Luthor, but for Mayson Drake, she had to.

"Superman!"

"Thank you, Miss Lane. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He looked at his men. "Is he coming?"

"If the tracker is correct, Kryptonian energy signature is nearby, and closing fast," the henchman with the device replied.

"Then Mayson Drake has served her purpose," Luthor said. "Drop her."

"NO!" Lois stood and tried to run to Mayson, but she was too far away, and watched helplessly as the man holding Drake pushed her from the roof of the one hundred story LexCorp Tower. "You monster!" Lois ran at the man who had pushed Drake, slamming into him. He and his partner were looking over the edge to watch Drake hit the ground, and Luthor gave no warning. Lois hit them as hard as she could, but neither went over the edge.

"You're still not recovered from your little nap, Lois," Luthor chided. "And I doubt you could have pushed them over, even if you were; the wall comes above their waists."

The two men grabbed her, and at a nod from Luthor, held her out over the edge. Lois chanced a look down, but saw no sign of Mayson Drake having hit the pavement. Nor was there any sign of Superman, leading her to believe that the Man of Steel had caught Drake and taken her to safety, likely a hostpital. _That's all fine and good, ya big blue boy scout, but what about me?_

"I had hoped Miss Lane would draw him out," Luthor lamented. "Apparently, she's not so important to him after all. Drop her."

The men released Lois, and she shrieked as she fell. However, Lois fell only a short distance when two hands smashed through the building's glass from the inside, and grabbed her, pulling her inside.

"Sorry for the deception, Lois," Clark said, kissing her. "I got Mayson to Metropolis General Hospital. I need to deal with Luthor, but first, let me fly you home."

"I'm fine Clark. Don't worry about me; I can get out on my own."

"Are you sure?"

Lois kissed him. "I'm sure. Now go."

With that, Clark flew out the broken window, and up to the rooftop, where Lex Luthor awaited. Now, however, he was flanked by twenty D.F.A. Gang members. Their armor was different though; a large circular lens was mounted in their chest plates, emitting a greenish glow, giving Clark a headache just from proximity. Bruce had said that Luthor had figured out how to synthesize Kryptonite. Bruce was correct; it did not pack the punch of the real thing, but it still affected him, and with twenty of them, they could potentially kill him.

"Ah, Superman. I thought you'd come for Lois," Luthor gloated. "I must admit, I was getting worried for a moment. I thought perhaps Lois might splatter on the sidewalk, but thanks to you, she's safe and sound." Then he looked at one of the gang members. "Kill him."

At once, all twenty of them spread their arms and planted their feet wide, and fired Kryptonite beams from their chest plates at him. Superman had no trouble dodging the beams, and they were too slow to follow him with the beams. However, their beams struck a boom crane on the roof of a building a quarter mile away, forcing Superman to divert and catch it before it fell and hit the street, killing people below. They chose that moment to concentrate their fire on him, hitting him hard. The synth-Kryptonite hurt, and it sapped his strength almost immediately, though not enough to cause him to drop the crane. As he flew the decapitated boom crane to the ground, the D.F.A. Gang took to the air, focusing their fire on a visibly weakened Superman.

"We've got him on the run," one of them shouted. "Concentrate fire on him! Don't let up!"

If Clark just flew straight down and took it, he would be severely depleted by the time he got to the ground. Instead, he took the crane, and marshaled his remaining strength. Flying faster than they could react, Superman was on them in an instant. Since they were clustered together, he took one powerful swing with the crane, recalling the Smallville Sluggers days, and knocked them down to the street below. None of them had died, but they were badly injured. Clark hated hurting people, but for the first time since Bruce's near fatal final test, Superman was truly defending himself. With the S.C.U. converging on the disabled troopers, Superman could focus on his objective. _Now for Luthor_.

* * *

Bruce sped to the abandoned school, and recalled Clark's article son the Simon Project. He wondered if Luthor was not hoping for collateral damage from the fight. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Alfred, I need satellite imaging of the Simon Project, and I need it right now."

" _What are you looking for, Master Bruce?_ "

"Rigged explosives."

" _Repositioning one of your satellites now. Images should be feeding directly into the Batmobile computer._ "

"Coming in now, Alfred. Thanks."

" _Of course, Master Bruce_."

It was as Bruce had suspected. Key buildings were rigged to explode, all to be conveniently blamed on a fight between the Joker and Batman. There was no way he could disarm them and save Barbara.

"Clark, how are you faring?"

" _Just took out synth-Kryptonite powered D.F.A. Gang members, and I'm about to get Luthor. Why?_ "

"Luthor's rigged key building in the Simon Project to detonate. There's no way I can …"

" _On my way. I'll take care of the explosives. Go get Barbara_."

"Thanks, Clark. I owe for this one."

" _Don't mention it. That's what_ super _friends are for_. _Clark out_."

Bruce smiled at the last comment, and sped to the school. He made sure to park a few blocks away, so that he could stealthily enter the building. First, he had to deal with the exterior guards. Joker had men on the roof, around the building, all wearing some kind of clown mask. He wore the black suit again, and activated its invisibility mode, stealthily sneaking up on one of the ground level thugs. Batman delivered a sharp hold to the man's solar plexus, and then put him into a sleeper hold, taking him out in seconds. He became visible again, so as to save power, but stuck to the shadows. He made his way to the next thug, and similarly disabled him. by the time he had taken care of the five out front, his batteries were mostly drained, so he would need to rely on passive stealth from here on out.

He located a window that was mostly smashed out, and entered the building there. Batman made his way to the classroom door, and could hear voices in the hallway. He waited until they were right in front of the door, and then dove into the hall, tackling them both, and knocking out one of them. The other he dragged into the classroom, pinned him to the floor.

"Where is she?" It came out like a guttural growl, but it had the desired effect.

"Gymnasium!" The terrified goon looked as though he might have just soiled himself.

Batman drove an elbow into the man's head, knocking him out cold, and then skulked his way toward the gymnasium. Thankfully, there were still signs in the hall pointing the way to the gym. Batman dealt with the occasional lackey as he made his way, but nothing substantial. He was surprised by how little resistance he was getting along the way, and steeled himself for a trap. When he got to the gym, the doors were wide open. He looked in from behind cover of some old boxes in the hall, and could see Barbara Gordon hanging by her ankles from a climbing rope. He activated the mask's thermal imaging, and located three heat sources; one being Barbara, the other two presumably the Joker and another lackey. It was time to strike.

Batman crept into the darkened gym, thermal imaging still active. As soon as he was inside, the gymnasium was flooded with light, momentarily blinding him. he turned off the imaging, knowing he had just been made.

"Blind as a bat, I see," the Joker gloated. "You came all this way, only to spring Superman's trap."

As his vision cleared, he saw the joker flanked by ten D.F.A. troopers, their suits powered by the synth-Kryptonite, their weapons trained on him. Bruce fired off his E.M.P., but they did not seem affected.

"Lex insulated their suits after your humiliation of his guards—and me."

Bruce tried to get moving, his vision now clear, but the hardsuit-equipped troopers—he could no longer call them gang members, flanked him at every turn. Without an equalizer, there was no fighting them. _If I don't get Barbara, and get out of here I'm dead_ , was all he could think.

* * *

Lex Luthor went to the elevator, summoning it to the rooftop. Everything was in motion, and soon, Superman would be dead. Luthor had insured that Kara had been trained from birth in the martial arts, and after studying Superman since his debut, Luthor was certain that the Man of Steel possessed comparatively little formal training. And with Kara's cultivated anger and hatred of the Man of Steel, she would fight to her fullest capacity, while Superman would likely try to contain the situation and attempt to reason with her. The battle could go anywhere, and Luthor needed to get below ground. The elevator doors opened, but before he could step inside, a blue suede pump, connected to Lois Lane's foot, struck his crotch.

"That's for kidnapping me, you animal! And this …" Lois kicked the already doubled over Luthor in the solar plexus. "… is for that poor girl you sicced the Joker on!" Then she brought both elbows down on Luthor's back, driving him down, as she brought her knee up into his face. "Police are on the way, Luthor. You're finished!"

Lois was flanked by a hastily called in Jimmy Olsen, who was snapping pictures of it all. Luthor's nose was broken, and she had knocked a couple of teeth loose. Lex started to move, but the edge of Lois's pump struck him in the side of the head.

"Lights out, Luthor," was the last thing he heard before losing consciousness.

* * *

Diana arrived at her hotel room in Metropolis, and cautiously entered. There in the room, seated on the love seat, was Mercy Graves, Lex Luthor's assistant. With her was a comely woman with long blonde hair wearing a black combat jumpsuit, the same Kryptonian glyph upon its right breast that Superman's costume sported in the center of the chest."

"I've been waiting for you, Princess Diana."

"That is not Alkyone. Where is she?"

"Couldn't care less, Amazon; we never had her."

"You lied?" Diana could hardly believe she had fallen for it, though in retrospect, there was no way she could not.

"Of course, I lied," Graves sneered. "But since you were foolish enough to accept me at my word, here's your consolation prize: Kara Zor-El—your Doomsday!" With that, Mercy waved, and said, "Toodles," before running from the room.

"Kara Zor-El," Diana said warily. "Are you related to Superman?"

"You are allied to the murderer!" Kara did not wait for Diana to respond, but unleashed her heat vision full force.

Diana barely got her bracelets up in time, the shockwave sending the Kryptonian woman through the wall, but Kara did not relent. Diana's bracelets began to heat up, and Diana had to change tack. She launched herself out the window, landing with a roll on the ground outside. She had to get to her car, and cursed herself for not bringing her armor and weaponry. As soon as she turned to run, Kara was in front of her, hovering in the air, eyes glowing red. If Kara was as powerful as Clark, there was no way Diana could win. The only weapon she had with her besides her bracelets was Hestia's golden cord, coiled at her hip. If she could somehow ensnare Kara, the cord should hold her—assuming its powers worked on Kryptonians.

"I could use a little help here," Diana called, remembering her communication link with Bruce and Clark. _Still not used to working with men_ , she thought.

" _Just wrapping up_ ," Clark replied. " _On my way_."

"I found his doomsday," Diana announced as Kara fired again, Diana narrowly dodging the blast. "He's got another Kryptonian! She's calling you a murderer!"

" _What? That's crazy—I've never killed anyone_."

Diana jumped to dodge another blast, somersaulting in the air as she leapt, hoping to land behind Kara, but the Kryptonian's speed was unlike anything she could have imagined. Hermes himself was not so swift. Kara caught Diana's ankle, and slammed her to the ground hard enough to leave a Diana-shaped crater.

"Uhnn … make haste and tell her that …"

Kara still had Diana's ankle, lifting her again, and flinging her into the hotel. The Amazon had never known this kind of pain, striking the bricks at near supersonic speed. The building came down around her, and she hoped that the occupants had evacuated, though she suspected most had not. But there was no rest, even buried under rubble. Kara's fist plowed through brick and mortar, and grabbed Diana's neck, hauling her up, and holding her by the throat like Darth Vader, eyes glowing red. Diana was dazed, and now fought for air.

"I will kill you, and then I will kill the murderer!"

"Who … did he kill?" Diana could barely manage to speak, Kara's grip being so tight. She tried to pry Kara's fingers from her throat, but the Kryptonian was far too strong.

"Everyone!"

An enraged Kara flung Diana into a passing gasoline truck. The tanker exploded as Diana sheered it in two, and Kara's heat vision ignited its contents. An enraged Kara was all Diana saw through the flames before blacking out.

* * *

Clark had dealt with all of the explosives, and made his way to Bruce, who was fending of D.F.A. troopers. The synthetic Kryptonite proved a non-issue, as Superman's speed was so great that they never had an opportunity to see him, much less make use of the weapons. In moments, Superman had them immobilized, just as he had done at the gala. Joker was trying to escape, but Clark interposed himself. "Going somewhere?"

The Joker gulped. "Sorry, Supes, but I'm only doing a job. I don't get paid for this!"

"And neither do I." With a flick of his pinky finger, Clark knocked out the Joker, sending him flying about twenty feet. "Baman, we have a serious problem. Diana said Luthor has a Kryptonian."

"So ... I was right."

" _That's_ his doomsday project. Get Barbara to safety, then meet me over in New Troy, Intersection of Siegel and Schuster. Diana's got her hands full, and won't last much longer without me."

"I'll need to return to base to get Barbara to safety, and to retrieve that gadget you gave me," Bruce replied. "See you there."

Clark just nodded, and in an instant, he was gone.

* * *

Diana opened her eyes, having blacked out momentarily. She was on fire, but thankfully, her invulnerability prevented her from being consumed. The police had cordoned off the area, and set up barricades, getting people outside of the battle's radius. There was no way they could contain this, however, and Diana needed to act. With the swiftness of Hermes, she escaped the flames, thought Kara's heat vision erupted again, forcing her to deflect it with her bracelets. This time, with Athena's wisdom, she was able to deflect the blasts back at Kara. Although the Kryptonian easily dodged them, it did interrupt the attack.

At the same time, eight D.F.A. troopers arrived, surrounding Diana in a horseshoe formation, with Kara advancing. Unless Clark got here soon, Diana would not last. Kara was far too powerful, even for Wonder Woman, and with eight troopers, her fate was clear.

"This will be a battle to be remembered," Diana shouted. "If I am to die today, it will be a glorious heroic death!"

"You aid the murderer," Kara shouted. "There will be nothing glorious or heroic in your dying! Only justice done! And I am the …"

Before Kara could finish her sentence, Superman tackled her, driving her to the ground. Diana was relieved. She relished battle, but she was no fool. Kara was visibly trained, and could likely fight on Bruce's level, and had Superman's power to boot. Clark was powerful, but Diana wondered just how well trained the Man of Steel was, and whether or not his code against killing would be his downfall against an opponent of equal power.

As Diana prepared for the fight, the Batmobile roared in, stopping beside her. The Batman leapt out of the car, wearing a hardsuit similar to the D.F.A. troopers, only Bat-themed. Its bat-symbol glowed a pale green. In his hands were her sword and shield. "I think you'll want these," he said, tossing them to her.

Diana caught them, now grinning at the troopers.

"Show me what you can do!"

The troopers obliged, firing their weapons at her, only to have their attacks deflected by her shield, as she raced in, dancing amongst them, cutting with her sword and bashing them with her shield. The sword, forged by Hephaestus himself, cut through their armor with ease. Six were dead before they could even move, while the remaining four flew higher. Diana leapt into the air, cutting one down, and hurling her shield at another, knocking him into his two friends. The three of them lost control, and crashed to the ground. Diana landed in their midst, ready to kill them, but they wisely surrendered.

"Please … we're no match for you!" The prone trooper removed his helmet, and powered down his suit, his friends doing the same. They held their hands out, palms facing Diana. "We surrender!"

Diana stood wordlessly as the S.C.U. rounded up the D.F.A. Troopers. Only Kara remained, but Superman would have to deal with her. As she gathered her strength, the Batman walked over and stood at her side. She looked at the pale green bat symbol.

"Is that … ?"

"Yes, Diana," Bruce confirmed. "Clark entrusted it to me. It's the real thing, not the synthesized stuff."

Both looked over as Kara pummeled a more restrained Man of Steel. Superman only used enough power to defend, trying futilely to calm the raging girl whose power equaled his own.

"He won't last," Bruce observed. "If he doesn't take her down, she'll win out."

"Surely, he can beat her …"

"That girl is trained in the same system that I use," Bruce said. "Clark is largely untested, and only had a Jhoon Rhee class from when he was in elementary school, and some middle and high school wrestling. Sure, he can fight, but he's not a trained fighter, not like her, and she's fueled by rage. She's beyond reason, and he believes in talking things out. Where do you _think_ this will go?"

"She says he's a murderer."

"That's insane," Bruce snorted. "Clark's never killed anyone."

"Even by accident?"

Bruce shook his head. "He avoided killing those D.F.A. goons at the gala, and that was moving at supersonic speeds. Believe me, if he wanted it ..."

"They'd be dead." Diana was a warrior, and she could see that Bruce's assessment was accurate, though Clark was doing better than Bruce seemed to think. Still, they needed to help, if for no other reason than to end the fight before greater destruction and loss of human life occurred.

"Come, my friend," she said. "Let us join him before civilian casualties start to climb."

 **Trinity**

The girl kept shouting, "Murderer!" at Clark, but he had no idea what she was talking about. She fought a lot like Bruce, and Clark was now thankful for the Batman's Kryptonite powered hazing. Still, this girl wore his family's glyph. That meant that she was family, and the only other Kryptonian he had ever met, likely the only other survivor. He could not kill her.

"I've never killed anyone," he shouted. "Calm down, so we can talk this out!"

She responded with a flurry of blows that he was forced to block. She tried to follow up with a knee and low kicks, but he was ready for those. She opened up with more heat vision, but he hunkered down and charged into her, driving her back momentarily, only to have her reengage him.

"I will slay you if it's the last thing I do!" She took a nearby car, and launched it at him. He batted it aside, but the distraction worked, and she struck him in the solar plexus, flying full speed with her fists extended, and hitting him like a battering ram. With the wind knocked out of him, he found himself on his back, with this girl raining blows down upon him. Clark deflected most of them with his arms, but he could only keep this up for so long.

"Murderer! You killed my people! You're Krypton's executioner! I will destroy you, Daxamite!"

"Daxamite?"

Now it all made sense. Luthor must have gotten his hands on her pod when she was an infant, and somehow deciphered all of the history that her parents had probably sent. He drove his knees into her back, forcing her forward, at which point he turned the tables, rolling over and pinning her hands to the ground. She tried to push him off with her own legs, but she had spent so much of her energy that she lacked the strength to overcome him. Like Clark, she had never fought anyone equal to her own power. "I'm no Daxamite! I'm Kryptonian!"

"Lies!" She fired off another blast of heat vision, hitting him in the face.

Clark turned aside, but it was the distraction she needed. She arched her back, and wriggled free of his pin, and delivered a swift kick from the air, catching him in the side of the face. It sent him into a parked car, leaving a trench in the ground. _That hurt_ , he thought. He extended his fist just in time to catch the careening girl, who flew right into it. It stunned her, but as Clark slowly stood, she scrambled to her feet. At first, he thought she was about to renew her assault, but then she collapsed to her knees. It seemed that running into Superman's fist at full speed, even for another Kryptonian, was debilitating.

"Murderer …" she continued to gasp.

Then she clenched her fists, and tightened every muscle in her body. Clark thought she was about to lunge, but instead, the Kryptonian girl shrieked as she unleashed a powerful blast of solar energy, incinerating everything around her. Diana used her shield to protect Bruce, the girl's solar flare threatening to kill them both. When it was over, the Kryptonian girl collapsed to the ground. She looked up, only to see Clark floating above her, his body crackling with energy.

She tried to stand, but fell again, this time, landing palms down to brace herself. Landing on her hands and knees, she cried out. Holding up her hands, she saw blood on them from her fall. Her knees too were bleeding. "How ..."

"You just released all of your solar energy," Clark informed her. "You've completely depleted yourself, while at the same time, you've fully energized me."

Her eyes went wide as she realized her miscalculation.

"I am Kal El of the House of El," Clark declared authoritatively. "My father is Jor-El, who sent me to Earth before Krypton was destroyed."

She made a clumsy lurch, swinging wildly, but Clark jabbed her in the solar plexus, deflating her. "Stay down, Miss," Clark warned. "If I wanted it, you'd be dead already."

"Lex said you're a Daxamite," she gasped, "and that you authored Krypton's destruction! He showed me archival footage!"

"You mean he showed you fabricated or doctored footage," Superman replied. "I can prove my identity to you, young lady. As for murderers, you _killed_ people in attacking Wonder Woman. Everyone still left in that hotel you demolished is dead!" The girl's eyes went wide at this revelation. "Now, tell me who you are!"

"Didn't … didn't mean to kill … I just wanted justice."

"I understand," Clark said. "Now, who are you?"

"I am Kara Zor-El."

"Kara Zor-El?" With that, Clark lifted her from the ground and embraced her. "You're my cousin!"

When Clark let go, she again collapsed to her knees, the last of her strength gone. Without her rage to sustain her, she had nothing left. Now that she was thinking clearly, she was questioning the narrative that her adoptive father had drilled into her all her life.

"I … my vision does confirm—you're Kryptonian. You said you can prove your identity ..."

Clark nodded. "I suspect the answers you seek are in that building over there." He pointed to LexCorp Tower. "Come, Kara. Let us find the answers together."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hall of Justice**

Kara Zor-El and Kal El, along with Bruce, Diana, and Lois, went into the basement of LexCorp Tower, and located the ship in which Kara's parents had sent her to Earth. It was much the same as the tiny ship that had carried Kal El through dark space to the Milky Way. His vision confirmed that it had been on Earth roughly the same amount of time his own ship had, and that the tiny ship had built around the same time as his own. But where his had landed in Kansas, Kara's had landed outside of Metropolis, only to be snatched up by Lex Luthor.

Kal El located the data crystal. He surmised that Luthor had not actually been able to crack it, but had instead used navigational data from the ship. As it turned out, Daxam had been rendered uninhabitable. A pod from that world had also landed on Earth, carrying Daxam's prince, Lar Gand, only Daxamites were vulnerable to lead, which existed in small quantities in Earth's atmosphere, thanks to human pollution. Poisoned by breathing, he had not lasted long, and Luthor had gotten the information about Daxam from him, including the enmity between Krypton and Daxam. From there, Luthor spun the yarn to Kara about Superman being a Daxamite who authored Krypton's destruction.

"All of this," Kal El said. "All of this must be removed from this building. It is … _sacrilege_ for it to even be here."

Bruce, Diana, and Lois nodded, though Lois stood at Clark's side, holding onto his arm. Kara held the data crystal, which glowed in her hand. She looked at the ship, then back at Kal. "It has the glyph we wear."

"Do you want to see what's on that crystal?"

Kara nodded, so Kal placed it into a receptacle on the ship. He then placed his hand into a hand shaped indentation on the side of the ship. A smaller, hand shaped indentation was next to it.

"Place your hand into this indentation, Kara, and it will activate."

She did so wordlessly, and a holographic image appeared above the ship. It was a woman who resembled Kal El, and a man whom Kara did not recognize. She looked at Clark, then back at the man. It was the woman who spoke.

" _Kara Zor-El, I am so sorry that … that we will never converse except through this projection, and even this is only one way. I am Alura, and I am your mother. You are from the planet Krypton. Jor El, my brother, has discovered that our planet is on the verge of death. I believe him, as does my sister Astra, though the rest of the Council does not. Your father and I have worked with Jor El to build two capsules that will carry you and your cousin, Kal El, to the faraway planet Earth_.

" _We would come ourselves, but the Council has decreed that anyone caught trying to leave the planet will be sent to the Phantom Zone, along with their entire house. I could not do that to you. These capsules resemble probes, the sort of thing Jor El is sending out all the time, so none will suspect the precious cargo aboard. Protect each other, Kara, you and little Kal El. I wish that I could say more, but I fear that this final message is all that I have time to give you. I have encoded historical information on the planet Krypton, and on the houses Zor-El and El. Be well, my daughter. Grow strong, and may the blessings of Rao be upon you_." The woman looked to her right, as though someone was coming, and the recording ended.

"Mother …" Kara collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. "All those things I did … those things Luthor told me … it was all a lie! Those people … dead because of me … my parents would be so ashamed."

"You were tricked, Kara," her cousin assured. "While you bear some responsibility, you do not bear the fault. The important thing is that you're free. You know who you are, and you can move forward as Kara Zor-El, not as an agent of Luthor. Also, you're still a minor, so I will have you remanded into my custody."

"What if they won't?" Kara knew that it was unlikely that the authorities would agree.

"I will not give them a choice. You are Kryptonian, and the only Kryptonian family that I have left. You will not rot in some prison."

"Not that any prison could hold her," Lois pointed out. "Also, how did her ship end up here twelve years later than yours? And why not in Kansas with you?"

"It seemed that Kara's father and Jor El disagreed over where to send the ships," Clark explained. "Major population center, or out in the country. My father chose out in the country, and Kara's chose major population center. It seems that along the way Kara's ship was stuck in some kind of anomaly, and was delayed twelve years, Kara in stasis, unaging, until the ship's nav computer found a means of exit. Once they were free, everything went as planned … except for Luthor finding her."

"Poor thing," Lois said. "But what will happen to her now? I mean, she's like a super woman, and she's almost totally brainwashed."

"Perhaps I can offer a solution," Diana said. "She can return with me to Themyscira. There, we can hone her skills, and undo the damage done by Luthor. We do not allow men on our island, but in Clark's case, I will make certain that an exception is made. Certainly, Lois, you would be welcome as well." Then she turned to Batman. "I'll see what I can do about you, but I would be pleased to see you visit. There is much we could learn from each other, Dark Knight of Gotham."

"I'd be honored, Diana, but I think we need to know just what kind of things Kara did for Luthor."

"I was an agent," Kara confessed. "I took out key people he said were a threat to peace. I believed him, but now … now I question everything."

"I'll see to it that Luthor hangs for what he did," Lois spat. "If that slime gets off, maybe Superman could nuke him from orbit?"

"I don't circumvent the law, Lois," Clark informed. "However, I can make him wish he were in prison."

"I'll make sure he demands prison," Batman added. "Between the two of us, I think we can handle it without killing him."

"Kara, you will need to testify when the time comes," Clark added.

The girl just nodded. Batman, however, was already digging into Luthor's systems.

"Maybe not, Clark. I've got all the information here, information that was not on his main drives. It details how he manipulated her, and how he kept her under simulated red sun radiation to keep her from having power unless he wanted her to do something for him. She's also the reason he knows how Kryptonite works, using it on her after your appearance. More importantly, I have access to the names of the people he used Kara to assassinate. Some were as dirty as Luthor, but most were just businessmen whose success stood in his way, or politicians who refused to knuckle under to him. He even had contingencies to assassinate the president—should he sign into law the antitrust legislation making its way through congress. I'll send it to Lois, a gift from the Batman."

"That's treason," Lois exclaimed, her mouth agape.

"High treason," the Batman agreed. "Authorities will be here any minute. We need to clear out. Clark, I've rounded up all the synth Kryptonite for disposal later. I'll wipe all information on Krypton and Daxam, and the synth Kryptonite from Luthor's computers, and get it into your hands for safe keeping."

"Thank you." Clark then took the ship in one hand, and Lois in the other. He looked at Kara somewhat sternly. "Follow me."

With that, the two Kryptonians and Lois were gone, leaving Bruce and Diana. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Diana. I don't think it should be the last time either."

Diana nodded. "I can see why you'd say that."

"Tomorrow morning, eight sharp—meet me at this address." Batman wrote it on a WayneTech business card and handed it to her. "Don't be late." With that, the Batman made his exit, leaving Diana alone.

She looked around the room, contemplating what had been done to Kara, her fists clenched, and shaking with rage.

 **Bruce's Airfield ...**

It was eight AM the day after, and the Daily Planet had Luthor's fall splashed all over the front page. Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman were being lauded as heroes, Luthor and the Joker were in jail, and Barbara Gordon had been returned to her father.

With the damning evidence against him, Luthor would not be getting out in less than forty-eight hours as he had before. This time, Luthor was facing prison, and possibly execution; the District Attorney was pushing for the latter. Because of the Joker's involvement, and because it had happened in Metropolis, the District Attorney was pushing to have Joker executed as well.

A.D.A. Mayson Drake was in stable condition, and singing Superman's praises. She was looking forward to working to putting Luthor behind bars. With the damage limited to a very small area of the city, the Simon Project saved once again by Superman, and Drake's own rescue by the Man of Steel, Superman was considered an ally of the Metropolis Police and Justice departments.

Kara was staying with the Kents in Kansas until it was time to leave with Diana. As soon as his workday was done, Clark would go with Lois to Kansas, where he would show Kara the tiny spaceship that had brought him to Earth, and share with her the Kryptonian lore that he already had on the crystal Jor El had sent with him. In the meantime, Clark had an eight AM appointment with Bruce Wayne.

He rode his motorcycle toward a hangar on Bruce's newly purchased airfield. The building was lead lined, which kept even Clark's keen senses from probing its secrets. As he pulled up to the side of the building and lowered his kickstand, Diana's red Ferrari pulled up next to him.

"What is this place?" Diana looked at Clark expectantly, but he only shrugged. "I thought you were in on this with Mister Wayne."

Clark shook his head. "Just got the call from him this morning. I knew he owned the airfield, but apart from that …" In truth, he knew slightly more about the building, but not Bruce's full vision for it.

The hangar's side door opened, and Bruce stepped out. "Clark, Diana. Now that you're here, we can get started." He pushed a button on a remote, and a side garage door opened. "Pull your vehicles inside."

As Clark walked the bike inside, he looked around and was impressed with what Bruce had done. Inside the hangar was the infamous Bat-Wing, the plane Gotham's police and criminal element hated in equal measure. Also parked inside was the equally infamous Batmobile. Next to that, Diana's Ferrari looked tame, and Clark's bike looked like a toy.

"Interesting car," Diana noted. "And the plane is very … chiropteran."

"Unlike Clark, I can't fly without it," Bruce said as he closed the door. "And you're quite a pilot yourself, but let's talk in the main hall."

Diana looked at Clark. "Main hall?"

Clark simply shrugged, and the two of them followed Bruce toward the front half of the hangar. The lead lined wall separating the open hangar from the enclosed front kept him from seeing it even from inside the hangar itself. Bruce opened the door and led them inside.

Clark whistled as he looked around. "Bruce, this is like a command center!"

"Super computers, police band radios, and full access to the internet," the billionaire boasted. "My satellites are feeding the systems a constant flow of information, giving us a real time state of the world."

"Whatever for?" Diana looked at Bruce with puzzlement.

"Because the world needs us, Diana," Bruce explained. "The United Nations has failed—the world is in constant turmoil. Hunger, poverty, natural disasters, and unremitting war ravage the planet. That's to say nothing of the environmental damage being done. I'm a mortal man, and I know better than anyone the damage we're doing to each other and to the world. We need guardians—heroes who can do what the police and militaries of the world cannot."

Clark folded his arms, regarding Bruce pensively. "Be very careful where you're taking this, Bruce. Setting ourselves up as gods might terrify human governments, and turn them against us before we even get off the ground."

Bruce nodded. "That possibility has crossed my mind. Still, I think it's the best option. I know you, Clark, and we both trust Diana."

"Do you now?" Diana looked less than pleased at this.

Bruce nodded. "Luthor's not the only one who does his research, Diana. You worked with the United States Air Force during World War Two. What you did was heroic, inspiring. And after last night's battle, you're someone I know I can trust."

"Then you know why I withdrew from Man's World after the war."

Bruce nodded. "I know. The fact remains that you're here now—and it's not just man's world. Literally half of the human population is female."

"Slightly more than half, actually," Clark interjected.

"Exactly," Bruce said. "Diana, women suffer greatly in the Third World, and endure inequality in the First and Second. They need you— _we_ need you." Then he turned to Superman. "Come on Clark. You know what the world is like. You traveled, seen it all first hand. You know the evil that hides in the human heart. You know what happened to my parents. Justice, Clark. That's what this is about. Not just crime and punishment, but doing what's just—for all humanity."

"How many would be dictators had such ideas?" Diana asked.

"Not as many as peacemakers," Clark countered. "There have always been those who stand for truth and justice." He looked around the room at the impressive array of equipment. Monitor panels lining one entire wall, a central table that displayed three-dimensional holographic images, and in a side area, a full kitchen, rooms for members to stay in, each equipped with a full bathroom. Bruce had certainly spared no expense.

"I've always seen a greater purpose for my powers, but I've been hesitant to work much outside of Metropolis—a being as powerful as I am acting unilaterally on a global scale is too much. But with a team, I could remain more grounded, and not act solely on my own authority." He looked at Diana. "This could be something great. I'm with Bruce. The world needs us."

"Superman and Batman," Diana mused. "Your American military called me the Wonder Woman during the war. They even presented me with a star spangled, eagle emblazoned costume. At the time, I was greatly honored. Looking back, I can't help but wonder if they just wanted to see more of my body. Still—my mother and sisters said the age of heroes would never come again. This … for this, I would be willing to take up the mantle of Wonder Woman once more." With that, she held her hand out, palm down. "Very well. I'm in."

Bruce added his hand, and finally, Clark placed his hand atop theirs.

Diana smiled, and then asked, "So—what do we call ourselves?"

"How about … the Avengers," Bruce said with a grin.

"They're a Marvel comic book team," Diana objected.

"True, but I've always liked the name. What about you, Clark? Any thoughts?"

"I think we should call ourselves … the Justice League."

 **Epilogue**

Clark, Lois, and Diana stood with Kara as she ran her fingertips along Clark's spaceship. It was identical to her own, which now sat next to it. Clark had shown them the holographic message sent by Jor El, and shared what he had figured out about Krypton on his own. Combined with the information contained in Kara's ship, they now had a complete picture of the last days of Krypton. As far as anyone could tell, Kal El and Kara Zor El were the last children of Krypton.

"Family," she said. "I have family." Then she looked at Diana. "Will I be accepted on Themyscira?"

Diana nodded. "You will be among sisters. You may stay as long as you need to, but eventually, I think you will return to Patriarch's World, and you will stand with us, protecting the world."

"I think so too. I want to be like you, Kal. I want to be a hero—heroine, I suppose."

"You have the power, Kara, and a good heart," Clark assured. "Thanks to Diana, you'll have the training."

"When I do return, cousin, there'll be a Supergirl to fight alongside Superman." Then Kara looked at Lois and smiled. "Then you can write about me just like you do Clark."

"I'd like that, Kara," Lois replied. "We'll come and visit you. Don't worry; you'll be just as super as Smallville here."

Clark rolled his eyes at the Smallville comment.

Diana laughed, but said, "It is time. Come Kara. My plane is at the airfield. We'll talk on the voyage."

Kara nodded. She hugged Lois and Clark. "Tell Bruce I said goodbye."

"Bruce?" Clark and Diana looked at each other, then at Lois, who shrugged, and then at Kara.

"Yeah, Bruce; you know; Batman." Kara playfully punched Clark. "Come on, cousin. I have the same vision powers you do. Figured it out on my own."

"I'll tell him, Kara. Now, come here."

Clark hugged her one last time before she left for Themyscira with Diana. It was the dawning of a new era; another Kryptonian, the formation of the world's first super team, and Lois Lane at his side as more than just a coworker. He kissed Lois as Kara and Diana climbed the ladder to the ground floor.

"I love you, Lois."

"I know, Smallville. I love you too."

 **My thanks to the reader …**

… who has put up with long delays between chapters waiting for the conclusion of this story. It's not perfect, and due to time constraints, it did not get the kind of beta reading and corrections that my stories usually get, so I appreciate that I haven't opened my mailbox to dozens of negative reviews. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'll be posting more in the future.

Daniel


End file.
